


I Don't Need A Shark

by jojo_sain



Category: Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: AFAB, F/F, LGBT, Other, Self-indulgent fluff, cute high school relationship, jock x outsider, lydia is still a good ol' gay, non-binary, we love a good trope, yes I'm a corny writer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 85,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22934968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojo_sain/pseuds/jojo_sain
Summary: Entering her junior year of high school, Lydia Deetz had zero expectations of anything extraordinary happening–by normal standards anyway. Considering she lived with two ghosts and a demon, perhaps extraordinary was her ordinary. Either way, she didn't want or need anything different or new to come her way during school hours.And yet, a new face brings about a new adventure, but nothing like the living dead she saw from day to day. This was something extraordinary in ordinary life, but it was still something to rock the banana boats. Like a shark.A Southern High Shark, to be precise.
Relationships: Lydia Deetz/Original Female Character(s), Lydia Deetz/Original Non-Binary Character(s), Lydia Deetz/Robin
Comments: 106
Kudos: 94





	1. A New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the beginning of a story so sweet, I hope y'all watch out for cavities! Just a little something I've been putting together to give our favorite heroine an out-of-the-ordinary, cheesy, good ol' fashioned romance story. This is the first story I've written in this fandom, but I hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think in the comments, I love honest feedback :)
> 
> Little Note: I am non-binary, but I'm also a learning writer. If you think I wrote something that can be taken offensively, please let me know in the comments, and I will fix it accordingly. :)

_September 1st, 1989…_

Wait, wrong musical–

And that’s a lie. It’s September 1st, 2019. The last day of summer. Still, one can imagine the dread that filled Veronica Sawyer as she entered her senior year and channel that into a younger, shorter, gother heroine who was also returning to school as her summer break came to a close. And for one 16-year-old Lydia Deetz, school just meant spending less time at home with her wacky, lively yet not-alively family.

Lydia barely left the house over the summer, but she was far from inactive. She spent much of the dog days in the attic with the Maitlands, watching Adam rebuild his mini landscape model or listening to Barbara recount the stories of their lives before they, well…stopped living. Sometimes, Lydia would read from a new poetry novel at the kitchen table while Delia made a vegan-friendly dinner. On those days, Lydia often had to be the judge of whether or not the meal was not only safe for vegans but also safe for the rest of them.

Lydia tried to spend more time with her father, but he was a busy man. He was always capitalizing on some new real estate deals within the area, but he was also making more of an effort to spend time with his daughter. After a long day of taking phone calls and visiting vacated properties, Charles would happily join Lydia on the couch for a night of whatever she wanted. Card games, talking about her mother (he made good on his promise to do that more), or even just a good ol’ fashioned movie night. He always let Lydia pick the movie, which usually meant it was somewhere between a thriller, horror, or action film. Charles himself was not as much of a horror-lover as she was, but he didn’t mind the skin-crawling images and jump scares if it meant he could spend time with his little girl. Lydia could recall a few of those movie nights when he fell asleep during the show out of sheer exhaustion. She never minded or woke him up though. She loved their time together all the same. 

Then, there was the elephant in the room.

Well, more like the millennia-old demon in the room.

That’s right! Beetlejuice returned to the Maitland-Deetz household after several months of searching the Netherworld for his father. He told them he’d found some good leads and just wanted to settle a bit before he truly set off, but Lydia knew he secretly missed them. As she knew, it’s important to treasure the family you do have instead of chasing the distant thought of another.

Of course, Beetlejuice being back meant nothing but total shenanigans from the dynamic duo. He and Lydia did all kinds of stuff together. She’d have him hold random objects so they’d look like they were floating in her photographs, a maneuver most photographers often had to use some overpriced computer application to accomplish. Other days, they’d spend hours in front of the TV, playing video games and eating junk food (or just plain old junk in Beetlejuice’s case). They also pulled the occasional scare on a visiting delivery man if no one else was around to bust them. Lydia couldn't imagine her summer without Beetlejuice. It just wouldn't be complete.

Family and photography. Poetry and poltergeist. That just about sums up Lydia’s summer.

But with the first day of her junior year tomorrow came the end of her dream world, and now she was about to get smacked in the face with the reality of AP classes and college applications.

She wasn't exactly thrilled.

“I don’t wanna go back,” Lydia groaned into a pillow. She was spending her last night of summer in the attic, and she quickly found herself face-first in the cushions of an old couch. It wasn’t that she hated school. She just didn’t like it very much.

“C’mon, cheer up kiddo,” Adam encouraged from the other side of the room. He and Barbara were looking through boxes of their old things while simultaneously trying to get Lydia into better spirits. “School can’t be all that bad.”

“But it can always get worse,” Lydia retorted, still smothering herself in the couch.

“Well, back in the day, when Adam and I went to your school,” Barbara went off in a dreamy kind of storytelling voice, one she knew Lydia’s curiosity could never resist. “We loved going to school.”

“Yeah, duh, look at you guys.” Lydia sat up and gestured to the dead couple. “You guys seemed to have your lives together before…” A beat of awkward silence. “Well, you know. Anyway, I bet high school was real good to you guys.”

“You’d be wrong to think that,” Barbara said with a solemn inflection. She looked up at her husband and held out her hand for him to take. “High school was actually a difficult time for the two of us.”

“Really?” Lydia quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but we had different reasons,” Adam explained, giving Barbara’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I was under a lot of pressure from my parents to get valedictorian, and Barbara was a three-sport varsity athlete.”

Lydia looked to the woman in question in utter disbelief. “You played sports?”

“Field hockey, track, and lacrosse,” Barbara counted them off on her fingers with a proud grin. She shrugged bashfully. “I was kind of a jock back then.”

“‘ _Kind of_?’” Adam repeated incredulously. He dug through one of the boxes and pulled out what looked like a yearbook. He kept talking as he flipped through the pages. “Please, she’s sugar coating it! Look here, Lydia.” 

“Adam, don’t show her!”

Despite Barbara’s protests, Adam sat down next to Lydia and put the yearbook on display. On the pages, Lydia could spot a younger version of Barbara, running around with a lacrosse stick in her hands and eye black all over her cheeks. 

“Wow, Barbara,” Lydia chuckled, though she was really more impressed than anything else. “Nice war paint.”

“It’s a lacrosse thing, okay?” Barbara whined defensively.”

“She was an MVP,” Adam went on in total adoration, skipping to other pages of Barbara playing field hockey or brandishing track medals. “She went to team parties, ran around at pep rallies, had a letterman jacket–the works!” Adam kept showing Lydia picture's of his wife's achievements, and all Lydia could do was gawk in utter shock and admiration. They continued to surprise her every day.

“The jacket!” Barbara suddenly gasped before shooting up and racing back to their box of memories. Adam shut the book and put his full attention on her. She shuffled a few things around before gasping again. “Adam, look! It’s still in here.”

Adam jumped out of his seat and ran to join her as she pulled out a large, black letterman jacket with white sleeves. The design looked a little dated, but Lydia still recognized the Southern High ‘S’ on the lapel. Together, the couple patted away some of the dust and then took a moment to bask in the memories they shared. Lydia didn’t quite get it, but she was sure it meant a lot to them.

“Aw man,” Adam sighed in amazement. “You remember the story behind this, Babs?”

“Of course I do!”

“Story?” Lydia interjected, her interest suddenly piqued. “I don’t know the story. Tell me the story!”

Barbara and Adam shared a knowing glance as if they were silently debating letting her in on their little secret. Lydia gave them a pleading smile. She knew they couldn’t resist that.

However, Barbara put her hands on her hips and challenged Lydia’s puppy dog eyes. “Promise us you’ll at least pretend to be excited for school tomorrow.”

“Okay fine, yes, I promise!” Lydia agreed almost all too quickly. Then, she hugged a pillow against her chest, rested her chin on top, and eagerly awaited for the Maitlands to continue. “Now, tell me the story!”

“Alright, alright,” Adam conceded with his hands up. He ambled back over to the couch and sat down with a dramatic groan. Then, he pulled the yearbook back out, opened it up, and began the story. “It was our junior year, a particularly rough year if you ask me. I had spent the first half of my high school career getting picked on by–let’s see, where is he…” He bit his lip in focus while his finger ran down the student pictures in the yearbook. Suddenly, he tapped his finger right under the photo of a guy whose neck was as thick as his head. “Ah-ha! Here he is. Trevor Griffs. Some football rockstar who thought it was fun to pick on the captain of the chess club.”

“You were captain of the chess club?” Lydia queried.

“No,” Adam scoffed, but then he added a little more quietly, “I was co-captain.”

“Griffs was a total tool,” Barbara drawled, picking up the story where Adam left off. “Where some of us athletes worked for our glory and enjoyed the rewards in silence, he basked in his high school fame. He even convinced the whole school that having a letterman jacket was the only way to be considered ‘cool’, which is probably one of the stupidest things I encountered in my high school experience.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes at Barbara. “But you had one, right?”

“Not at the time,” the she-ghost admitted, leaning back against an old bedpost and holding her hands in her lap. “They’re pretty expensive, and I was saving money for college.”

“Then where’d the jacket come from?” 

“Be patient, we’re getting to that part,” Barbara admonished the younger girl. She looked up in thought, pulling the story from her memory. “Adam and I had been officially dating for about a year, I think.” She looked to Adam, her face scrunched in confusion. “Was it a year?”

“Closer to eighteen months,” Adam replied factually.

“Wow, really? I thought we made it official at the ‘02 homecoming.”

“But wasn’t our two-year anniversary at junior prom?”

" _Ahem._ "

Both Maitlands turned to look at Lydia, who had cleared her throat to interrupt their trip down memory lane.

“Oh, right! The story.” Adam snapped his fingers before picking right back up with the tale. “Anyway, Trevor Griffs was being more of a jerk our junior year because he wanted to win prom king at junior prom." He added on a bitter note. "Despite his butchered GPA, he could still see that he’d have to take Barbara to the dance to up his popularity.” 

“Again, this whole thing was so _stupid_ ,” Barbara groaned, squinting her eyes in disgust. She recovered her bearings with a deep sigh. “However, I was just as determined to not go with Trevor as he was to go with me, so I hatched a plan to make this guy back off Adam while also making it plainly clear that he had no shot with me.”

A brief moment of silence passed, and Lydia thought she was going to turn 21 before they finished this story. “What’d you do?”

“I took some of the money from my sweet sixteen, and I bought a letterman jacket,” Barbara told her, enunciation every syllable with utmost care. “I made it a few sizes bigger, and then I gave it to Adam.”

“You wore her jacket?” Lydia asked Adam. “Isn’t it usually the other way around?”

“Yes, but you’re not the only one around here who’s 'strange and unusual',” he said with a wink. Lydia smirked as he continued, “And believe it or not, it worked. The jacket may have said ‘Southern High Girls Field Hockey', but people actually started treating me like I was cool.”

“You were always cool to me, Adam,” Barbara professed with love in her eyes. “And more importantly, Griffs left us both alone.” With that, she concluded the story.

“Wow,” Lydia said, running the whole story through her head again. “That’s one helluva story. I guess high school wasn’t so easy for you guys after all.”

“Well, people love to hear about the stories of the popular kid and the nobody, but no one wants to see it happen to other people,” Adam divulged wisely with a shrug. “It just doesn’t make sense to some people."

“That’s deep,” Lydia remarked with a small grin. Then, another question came to mind. “Wait, if you guys ran in different circles, how did you meet?”

“We actually met in middle school,” said Adam.

“Yeah, sixth grade,” Barbara reminisced fondly. “Adam walked into the girls’ locker room by accident and then sprinted out. I went to make sure he was okay, and we've been best friends ever since.”

“The best of friends,” Adam corrected. “Not even death could make us part.”

Both Lydia and Barbara cringed at his one-liner. There was certainly no shortage of dad jokes, even of the mildest degree.

“Ha ha,” Barbara mocked, shaking her head at Adam. It didn’t wipe away the shit-eating grin he bore. “But to sum up our story, we struggled in high school, yes, but we struggled together, so we were happy.”

“Sounds amazing,” Lydia acknowledged sarcastically. “But I don’t have a hallmark-love-story counterpart to look forward to." Before the Maitlands could say anything on that, she quickly declared, “Nor do I need one.”

“Ya never know, kiddo,” Adam shrugged. “Romance can appear at any moment.”

“Ew, don’t get all mushy,” Lydia grimaced as she pulled out her phone and checked the time. It was almost midnight, and she had to wake up in seven hours. Knowing she shouldn’t start the new year sleep-deprived, she stood up and headed towards the door. “I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

“Hey, remember our deal!” Barbara reminded her. She was determined to make sure Lydia was at least trying to enjoy school. “Fake it ‘till you make it, sweetie!”

“Sure thing,” Lydia agreed half-heartedly. “Good night guys!”

As she closed the door to the attic, Adam’s last words repeated in her head.

_Romance can appear at any moment._

In all honesty, she hadn’t really thought about that kind of stuff since her mom passed, maybe even ever. Sure, she shared an idle crush or two with her friends, but that was elementary school shenanigans. Maybe, in this new year, would some other new experience enter her life?

_Nah._

Lydia shook her head to herself and dismissed the thought for good. Then, she made her way down the dark hall to retire for the night.

* * *

“So what are you looking forward to the most this year?” 

Delia asked the question from her place at the counter. Her eyes flickered between Lydia, who was sitting across from her, and the pineapple she was cutting up.

Lydia shrugged, idly poking at the fruit that was already on her plate. She hadn’t put much thought into her schedule when she threw it together last semester, and she wasn’t dying to sign up for any extracurriculars. Also, visiting colleges did not sound fun. When she remained silent, Delia pursed her lips together.

“C’mon, you’re not excited for anything?” she pressed, a laugh playing at her voice. Lydia even cracked a smirk at her enthusiasm. “It’s your junior year, there’s more freedom! Where’s your schedule, I wanna–“

“Right over here!” Barbara called from the other side of the kitchen. She walked over to the counter with a bagged lunch in one hand and a sheet on paper in the other. She held the paper out in front of herself and inspected what was on it while Delia looked giddily over her shoulder. “And I see someone is taking Photography.”

Lydia let a full smile slide onto her face, much to the enjoyment of the two women in front of her. She had to admit, she was more than just ‘looking forward’ to her photography class. She suffered through studio art last semester just so she could get into photography, and she’ll be damned if all those fruit bowl sketches were for nothing.

“Well, I’m glad you’re finally gonna be able to put that talent to use,” Delia remarked, gesturing to the camera sitting atop Lydia’s bag. She tapped her chin in thought. “It reminds me of something my guru Otho used to say–“

“Lydia, time to go!”

“No, that’s not it.”

While Delia mused over old sayings, Charles rushed into the kitchen. He was in full business attire and staring at his watch like it would explode any second. Before he fled, Lydia could read the urgency on his face. She reacted accordingly, swiftly snatching her schedule and packed lunch from Barbara before stuffing them into her school bag. Then, she slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder and gave Delia and Barbara a one-armed hug each.

“Thanks for breakfast and lunch,” she hurried out. “But I better get in the car before Dad blows a fuse.”

“Hey now, be nice,” Delia chastised her mildly. “He’s been stressing about some new real estate deal all week. I think he has a meeting about it later.”

“Alright, alright,” Lydia agreed, turning around to follow her father out of the room. However, as she whipped around, she found herself face to face with a rotting decapitated head.

Lydia let out a roar of laughter when only Delia screamed. Then, she greeted the demon holding the head. “Mornin’ Beej, already getting a head start on the day?”

“Ha, nice one kid,” Beetlejuice snorted in his signature demon rumble. “But I heard today was your first day of school and brought you this for show and tell.”

“If only my classmates were as fun as you,” Lydia replied with a shrug. “Unfortunately, I think they’d all just run away.”

“Exactly!” Beetlejuice exclaimed. “It’ll keep the breathers away for sure!”

“Thanks, but I think I’d better say no.” Lydia adjusted her bag on her shoulder, a sly smile on her face. “I’m not sure I wanna scare all the breathers just yet.”

“Well, that outfit’s certainly not helping.” He gestured to her bland and dull attire of a white button-down and a dark plaid skirt that ended above her knees.

“I know, but it’s a uniform. Everyone will wear it.”

“Ew. School makes you do that?”

“Yep.”

“Gross.”

“Lydia!” Charles yelled from outside the front door.

“I better go before he gives birth to a baby goat,” Lydia rushed as she grabbed her school sweater off the coat hooks. “See you guys later!”

“Wait, where are you going?!” Beetlejuice shouted, but the door had already closed behind his best friend.

“School,” Barbara answered from the kitchen, mildly confused. “You know today’s her first day.”

“I didn’t know school meant she was leaving!” he whined as he stomped his feet like a child ready to have a tantrum. “Now what am I supposed to do all day?”

As if on cue, the one and only Adam Maitland came walking down the stairs, completely oblivious to the soon-to-be-bored demon pouting in the hall.

Beetlejuice’s eyes lit up when he saw the sexy man. “Hey, Adam!”

“Oh, God,” Adam mumbled.

* * *

The building before Lydia used to be Miss Shannon’s School for Girls, back in the late 1980’s anyway. That was all before it combined with Mr. Shane’s School for Boys and formed Southern High (they were really keen on keeping SH in the name somewhere). The two individual buildings had merged into one when they added a giant middle portion to unite them. Over the years, more attachments were built to accommodate more students. From where she stood in front of the school, Lydia thought it looked like a lopsided castle.

“Your step-mother’s picking you up after school,” Charles quickly said through the open window after Lydia had closed the door. “I’ll see you at dinner. Good luck in school.” She could tell by the way he spoke in short, choppy sentences that he was stressed about his upcoming meeting. 

“Dad.” He looked up from his watch as Lydia leaned her forearms on the edge of the window. She sucked in a deep breath, indicating that he should do the same. He followed suit, and they both released all their tension into the air at the same time.

“Relax,” she advised, noticing his shoulders ease after a few more guided breaths. “I’m sure your meeting will go just fine.”

A smile cracked beneath his well-groomed beard. “Maybe you should follow in Delia’s footsteps and be a life coach. You seem to have the positivity for it.”

Lydia snorted at the prospect. “Yeah, no thanks.” 

Charles glanced down at his watch again. “I really do have to go,” he confessed, starting to roll up the window. “Have a great day! Love you!”

“Love you, too, Dad,” Lydia called to him while she began to walk away from his car. She fell in step with the flow of students flooding into the school. Everyone was wearing the same shirt-and-skirt combo or the same sweater-vest-and-khakis combo, but thankfully people were allowed to spice up their looks with a few accessories, like pins and jewelry. Lydia honestly thought she would get whiplash if she had to go from staring at the same dull uniform all day and then back to her house where she had a demon with mood hair and, well…Delia.

“Penny for your thoughts, Deetz?” drawled a familiar voice beside her. Out of nowhere, a lacey-gloved-hand held a literal penny a few inches away from her face. Lydia knew who it was without looking.

“Yeah right, Jazz,” Lydia sneered in response to her friend. “It’ll take way more than a penny to break down the walls of my tortured soul.”

“Oh God, you’re doing that thing again,” Jasmine, who stood at the same height as Lydia and wore the same uniform but contrasted her in almost every other way possible.

“What thing?” Lydia quirked an eyebrow.

“That thing where you talk like a depressed poet from the 1800s,” Jasmine replied, making the penny disappear with a flick of her wrist. “It’s the first day of my senior year, girl. Can’t you wait until after first period before making me feel like I need an energy drink?”

In addition to her bizarre affinity for magic tricks, Jasmine was also the first person to approach the ‘creepy-new-goth-kid’ last semester. She saw the camera hanging around Lydia’s neck and invited her to the photography club, which was pretty much just the photography class goofing around after school hours and working on portfolios. Lydia, who had just made peace with the losses in her life and decided to give people a shot, readily agreed to join. She ended up having a blast with the quirky crew. No one was the same, and everyone’s unique style was reflected in their photos. She figured she could work with this strange and unusual crew. Jasmine, probably the most different from Lydia, decided they would be best friends after two days. 

Jasmine had yet to be wrong about anything.

“Speaking of dead poetry,” Jasmine went on, pulling out her phone and sliding the screen to the camera. “I have an English class to get to so–“ she threw an arm over Lydia’s shoulders and held the phone up above their heads “–smile!”

Lydia gave the camera a half-smile while Jasmine went into her trademark duck face and snapped the photo. She was a very ‘live in the moment’ person, and it helped keep Lydia from dwelling on the past.

“And I’ll see you sixth period for photo,” Jasmine practically sang, waggling her eyebrows. With that, she took her leave, her focus plastered to her phone while she checked the selfies she took. Lydia watched her go for a second before pulling up her schedule on her own phone. 

World History - 408 

_Of course,_ Lydia thought with an internal groan. _First period, fourth floor._

Right as she was about to begin her trek to her first class, the warning bell rang, signaling a five minute grace period for anyone who still hadn’t found their class. Lydia readjusted her shoulder strap and followed the river of the students around her all the way to the nearest staircase. Then, she began the trek upward. It was times like these when she wished any of her ghostly friends could follow her to school. Over the summer, if she was ever ‘too tired’ to take the stairs, she would give Adam or Barbara a pouty look, and they’d be more than willing to levitate her up to the next floor. High school, on the other hand, was a different monster, one which she had to face alone.

A few minutes and a pair of sore legs later, Lydia found herself on the top level of the school. There was only one problem: it was the third floor. She pulled her phone from her pocket once more and double-checked her schedule. Sure enough, her first period was in room 408, and yet all of the rooms around her began with the number 3. She walked down every hall, hoping to find another staircase or some kind of extension that had a ‘408’. After a full lap of the third floor, the final bell rang and the halls cleared. Lydia’s stomach dropped.

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself, her head flopping backward in exasperation. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it certainly didn’t make her day any easier to be late to her first class. To top it all off, she still had no idea where she was going.

There was a beat of silence as Lydia slowly made her way back to the stairs. However, it was interrupted by a gruff voice behind her. “What are you still doing in the halls, young lady?” 

Lydia let another slew of curses fly under her breath before she threw on the nicest smile she could muster and turned to face a teacher who looked like he was a rejected navy seal. When he marched over to Lydia, she found he easily towered over her by two feet at least.

“Oh, I’m afraid I got lost,” she answered in a sickeningly sweet voice, folding her hands behind her back. “Is there any chance you could show me to my class and let me off with a warning?” Around her house, she could get away with murder using that voice (and she probably has), but Lydia was being reminded every second of this school day so far that she was _so_ not at home.

“Yeah, yeah, nice try,” he huffed, folding his bulging arms over his chest. “Front office. Now.”

Lydia dropped the smile from her aching cheeks and rolled her eyes. Then, she turned around and began her descent down the stairs, this time having a known destination. With the teacher following behind her, Lydia had one positive thought.

_At least I can miss the beginning of history._

* * *

The front office looked like it came straight out a corporate movie set, with a few desks at different corners of the room, each paired with a bookcase filled to the brim with papers and files. The people who worked said desks sat in front of computers whose screens were reflected off their glasses. It was like watching clockwork. Lydia felt like it would be illegal to disturb the tense quiet occasionally wilted by keyboard taps and phone calls, but clearly the man who busted her had other opinions.

“Who’s in charge of attendance ‘round here?” he nearly hollered at the administrative team. His demands fell upon deaf ears, for they were all far more busy taking care of first-day logistics. The most of a reaction he got out of them was a few shrugs or fingers pointing at the phones they were talking into.

Lydia folded her arms over her chest with a sigh. She had no idea who this teacher was, but he was blowing this issue out of proportion. She got lost! She was late! Big deal! She just wanted to get this over with so she could get back to her ordinarily boring school day.

Navy-seal guy was fuming, his face red with anger when none of the drones answered him. Lydia gave him a sidelong look of concern–for his and her own safety. He was as red as Beetlejuice’s hair when he’s angry, and that situation didn’t exactly end well for her.

“I said,” he enunciated, his throat rumbling in annoyance. “Who’s in charge–!”

“Woah, why all the shouting?”

Both Lydia and her captor turned to a hallway that went into the front office. Standing in the corridor was another student–a boy, Lydia assumed, based on the sweater vest ensemble under his letterman jacket. Lydia’s sure she’d seen him around the halls last semester, but she couldn’t put a name to the face.

“This is none of your concern, young man” The teacher turned on the guy, his red tie whipping around as he did. “Now get to class before I write you up for being late, too.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Griffs,” the student responded, holding his hands up as though he were taming a beast. “I’m a student aide for the office during first period, so I am in class.

Lydia’s ears perked up at the name. She took a closer look at the teacher, and then she glanced at his name tag. Sure enough, his name was Trevor Griffs. This was Adam’s high school tormentor.

_Small world._

Mr. Griffs paused, letting the information that was told to him process. Then, he coughed into his fist and changed the matter of the conversation. “Well then, maybe you can help me then. Do you know who handles tardies and absences?” He turned and hitched his chin at Lydia. “I caught this one playing hooky in the halls.”

“I told you, I got lost,” Lydia bit back. Mr. Griffs snapped his full attention back on her, and she met his bulging angry eyes with a stoic glare of her own. She’s literally been to hell. Very little scares her anymore.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the third player in their conversation had crossed over to them.

“The person you’re looking for is Ms. Kenney,” the other kid answered, side-stepping in front of Lydia and continuing his chat with Mr. Griffs as though she didn’t just sass a teacher. “And she’s on maternity leave after having her son a couple days ago.”

Lydia went to cut in. She didn’t need some guy defending her; she could fight her own battles. But she stopped herself when she caught sight of something a bit more mind-boggling. The back of his letterman jacket said “Southern High _Girls_ Soccer”.

_Interesting._

“However, in her absence, I’ve been given permission to handle some of her duties,” the student went on, glancing at Lydia over his shoulder. She opted to look away. “So you can go back to whatever it is you need to do, and I can take it from here.”

Griffs’ focus switched between Lydia and the guy in front of her for the longest time. The vein in his forehead threatened to burst. After what felt like an eternal stare down, Griffs straightened up and put his hands on his hips.

“Fine,” he conceded. Then, he jabbed a stern finger in Lydia’s direction. “But make sure she’s dealt with properly.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the office. Lydia watched him go with a look of disdain. Barbara and Adam’s story did not do his attitude justice. _What the hell is his problem?_

“Mr. Griffs is the new assistant headmaster,” said the other kid as though he could read Lydia’s thoughts. He pivoted back so he could actually face her, and while he wasn’t as tall as Griffs, he still beat Lydia by a head. “He went here back in the day and then transferred back after teaching at some military school,” he explained. “Some decision by the school board to improve our test scores or some b.s. like that.”

“Seems like a charming man,” Lydia quipped, still looking at the door where the man in question had walked out.

“No kidding, we don’t even punish lateness that hard, and he’s over here acting like you punched a kid.” That little comment brought the smallest smile of amusement to Lydia’s otherwise frowning face. The other kid–Lydia still didn’t know his name, though he was definitely familiar–returned kind of a lopsided grin before gesturing back to the hall from which he came. “Anyway, right this way.”

Lydia followed him down the hall to a door with the word ATTENDANCE printed on a label above it. No-name kid opened the door to a small, dark office that appeared unoccupied at the moment. He flicked on the light and immediately went to dig through the desk. Lydia opted to stay by the wall. From where she stood, she could only see the top of his short brown hair sticking up above the desk. She boredly looked about the room, keeping her mouth shut, but then she remembered the back of his jacket. _What are the odds_ , she thought to herself, but her curiosity was truly a force to be reckoned with.

“Is that your girlfriend’s jacket?”

His head poked up from behind the desk, and he narrowed his brow at her. “Excuse me?”

“‘Cause that’s pretty cool,” she kept going, figuring it was too late to stop now. “I have a family friend who wore his girlfriend’s letterman, and I just thought–“

“I’m gonna stop ya right there,” he cut her off, leaning a hand on the desk. Lydia immediately stopped her rambling and waited for him to speak. His face flashed a few different emotions–embarrassment, uncertainty, and a clear hint that this had happened before. Whatever ‘this’ was, Lydia had yet to find out.

“I know it might not look like it,” he began slowly, gesturing to his whole front to indicate his appearance. “But this is _my_ jacket.” When Lydia didn’t immediately react, he added very clearly. “ _I_ play on the girls’ soccer team.”

Oh.

_Oh._

_She._

Lydia’s eyes widened like saucers when she realized her error. “Oh shit,” she mumbled, which seemed to coax a nervous chuckle from the apparently female student in front of her. She really needed to work on her people skills. “I’m so sorry–“

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” No-name kid replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s actually pretty damn okay, um…” She trailed off, glancing between Lydia and the floor before clearing her throat and walking in front of the desk. Then, she took a breath.

“I’m generally really bad at explaining this,” she admitted, and Lydia had no idea where this was going. “but, uh, here goes nothing.” She extended one hand to Lydia and introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Robin, and…” She pulled back the lapel of her jacket to reveal a pin on her vest. It was a flag with yellow, white, purple, and black horizontal stripes. 

Oh.

_Oh._

_They._

Again, Lydia was struck speechless for a moment and didn’t even process that there was still a hand offered to her until Robin asked her in an inquiring tone, “Do you know what this means?”

Lydia eventually shook their hand and found her own voice. “Oh, um,” she sputtered out. “Uh, yeah, I do.” She watched Robin’s face instantly relax, that crooked smile returning. Lydia may have been a social recluse all summer, but she didn’t live under a rock. She quickly added in apology, “I’m sorry for all the assumptions, that was kinda shitty of me.”

“It’s fine, really I’m used to it,” Robin assured her, releasing her hand and leaning back against the desk. They pressed their lips together in a flat line. “I’ll admit though, I’ve never heard ‘girlfriend’s jacket’ before.”

There was amusement in their voice, and Lydia finally let her moment of embarrassment pass. Then, she realized she still hadn’t introduced herself.

“I’m Lydia, by the way…” and she thought it would sound better if she added “…she/her.” Robin raised their eyebrows at the extra information, but they didn't take it as Lydia expected.

“Lydia Sheeher, very nice to formally meet you,” they enthused with a firm nod of their head. Then, they glanced down at the desk and finally found what they were originally looking for: a green notepad. They picked up a pen and said, “Now, let’s fill out that late slip.”

“No, wait, I didn’t mean–“ Lydia began, but then she looked closer at the expectant expression on Robin's face. It was the same shit-eating grin Adam had last night. Lydia shook her head in disbelief. It was a goddamn pun. “You know exactly what I meant.”

“I do,” they answered simply. “And I genuinely appreciate it, really.”

“Well, it’s the least I can do after that whole girlfriend-jacket train wreck.”

“Ya know what?” Robin began to fill out the late slip as they spoke. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Seriously?” Lydia chuckled

“Sure, I’d be lucky to have a girlfriend at any rate,” they rambled, probably not realizing just how much they were divulging to someone they’d just met. It wasn’t that Lydia minded. They seemed nice enough. “But I don’t wanna bore you with those details. Instead, I’m going to walk you to your class.”

“You don’t have to,” Lydia hurried to object.

“You said you got lost, right?” Robin reminded her as they tore off the late slip from the notepad.

“Well, yeah,” Lydia admitted sheepishly, pulling out her phone to check her schedule yet again. “But it’s probably just a printing error. It says my class is on the fourth floor, but there is no fourth floor.”

“In this building.”

Lydia blinked. “What?”

“This school has two main buildings, remember?” Robin informed her. “One has three floors, and the other has four.”

“Oh.” If Lydia didn’t already feel like an idiot from the whole letterman jacket debacle, this was the straw that broke the sandworm’s back

“Yeah,” Robin drawled, a laugh playing at their voice. They held the door open for Lydia and decided, “I’m so walking you to your class.”

“Are you sure?” Lydia whined, reluctantly heading out the door.

“Of course! Maybe we’ll find that girlfriend you think I have.”

* * *

Robin walked Lydia to the second building in comfortable silence at first. Robin eventually asked the classic ice breakers: What grade are you in? What class are you headed to? You do any extracurricular activities? Blah blah blah. Lydia concluded that they’re one of those kids who hates silence.

“Where are you going?” they asked her when she started to head towards the stairs. Lydia looked at them like the answer was obvious.

“The stairs?” she answered. “It’s kinda how we get to the fourth floor.”

Her quip only made Robin smirk as they pulled out a set of keys on a black lanyard. “Not when you have keys to the elevator,” they boasted with a shrug. “Perks of aiding in the office."

Robin swaggered over to the elevator with a mildly impressed Lydia right behind them. After they used the key and hit the up button, the pair waited for the elevator to come down. Robin’s foot tapped while Lydia stayed perfectly still.

“I can’t say that I’ve seen you much around school,” Robin stated. “Are you new?”

“Kinda, I moved here from New York last winter,” Lydia answered before realizing she didn’t want to answer the follow-up question of why. “My dad’s work.” That was kind of true.

“Ah.” By then, the elevator door opened, and the two teens stepped inside. It was a quick ride up. When the bell dinged and the doors opened once more, Lydia found that a fourth floor did in fact exist. They walked down the hall for a minute before reaching their destination.

“Room 408, Building B,” Robin announced. Then, they pulled out Lydia’s late pass and offered it to her. Lydia took the note, uttering a quiet thanks, and Robin shoved their hands into the pockets of their jacket. “Show it to your teacher and they should let you off easy. Then, have a parent sign it and return it to me whenever you can.”

“Will do,” Lydia said with a small salute.

Robin chuckled at the antics. Then, they slowly started walking back towards the elevator. “It was nice to meet you, Lydia.”

“You too, Robin,” she replied, and she meant it. After Robin disappeared around the corner, Lydia walked over to her classroom door. However, before she entered, she looked down at the late slip and felt her gut sink at the first thing she saw.

NAME: Lydia Sheeher 

_That jackass_ , Lydia swore to herself, glancing back at the hallway her new acquaintance was just standing in. She could still see that damn face they made after that pun was initially made.

She had to admit, though, despite her disdain for the bad jokes, she was certainly intrigued by the jock.


	2. Mx. Goldstar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing says 'first day of school' like interruptive assemblies and lying to your step-mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna add a quick note that I realized writing this chapter: I write very much like a sitcom. I try for comedic timing, some character traits are emphasized through possibly extreme actions. I felt like I should note. Anyway, enjoy chapter 2!

Following Lydia's bizarre morning, the rest of the school day seemed to fly by, and thank God/Satan for that. Lydia was practically counting down the seconds to her photography class. If she had to ‘quietly skim through’ one more damn syllabus, she was going to purposely skip class so Mr. Griffs could take her away from that cruel torture. 

But soon began the best part of the school day: final period. While Lydia hated waiting in anticipation for her favorite class, she supposed having it at the end of the day gave her something to look forward to. Maybe she won't even have to fake enjoying school, as Barbara had suggested.

The instant the bell went off after her fifth-period class, Lydia jumped out of her chair and practically sprinted out of class. She would have ran down the halls too if it weren’t for the other kids who were just as eager to get out of their classes flooding into the halls. So, Lydia was forced to settle for a speed walk around everyone else to get to the final destination.

Weirdly, as soon as Lydia got to the classroom, her teacher Kim was leaving the room.

“What’s going on?” Lydia inquired. Around her, Jasmine and a few of the other photo kids were joining them at the door.

“First day assembly,” Kim replied with no enthusiasm whatsoever. “Yipee.” 

Lydia didn’t have her as a teacher last year, but she saw Kim plenty in the photography club. She was a younger teacher, only a couple years out of college, and her disposition definitely reflected her age at times. In this particular moment, she looked like she’d much rather fall asleep on the spot than take her students to an assembly. The coffee thermos and sweatpants said it all.

“Great,” Jasmine groaned sarcastically. Lydia, who hadn’t been in this school for a ‘first day assembly’ yet, looked to her for an explanation. “It’s an overdone welcome speech. They just spend an hour talking about ‘classroom expectations’ and ‘dates to remember’ and shit like that.” She emphasized her points with air quotes.

“Do we have to go?” Lydia whined. “Our class is mostly upperclassmen anyways. Do we really have to hear about the same student conduct that's really just common sense?”

“You’re one to talk, Lydia,” Kim interjected, walking past the two chatting girls to lead the way to the auditorium. “I saw that your homeroom teacher marked you late.”

Jasmine quirked an eyebrow at Lydia, silently laughing at her blunder. Lydia just threw her head back in exasperation. She was trying to forget that happened.

“You got lost, didn’t you?” Jasmine gibed as the two fell in step behind Ms. Kim.

“Shut up, Jazz,” Lydia growled, and Jasmine merely giggled at the obvious affirmation of her assumption. Before long, their class arrived at one of the many double doors that led into the auditorium. Most of the school had already arrived and taken their seats, so at least they knew they wouldn’t have to wait long for this circus to begin. They all walked to a section reserved for their class that was just to the right of the stage. Jasmine sat next to an aisle, and Lydia sat next to her.  This arrangement was specifically designed so they could play their favorite game.

“Glasses in the front row,” Lydia said, hitching her chin in the direction of a petite girl a few rows ahead of them.

“Sharon Ackerman,” Jasmine stated monotonously, glancing only briefly at the person in question. “Sophomore on the debate team. Skipped two grades in elementary school. Rumor has it she’s graduating with your class.”

Lydia made an impressed face, for both the Sharon girl and her friend’s unique talent. To explain that exchange, we'll go back to the beginning: When Jasmine and Lydia first met, Jasmine spent the first week acting as Lydia’s tour guide of the student body. They would walk by a person, and she would tell Lydia their name and a few other facts about them. At first, Lydia felt a little overwhelmed, but then she started making requests, pointing out different people to challenge her new friend’s knowledge. Jasmine has never been wrong, but Lydia always makes sure to keep her on her toes.

Lydia scanned the seats around her, looking for another new face. “Big guy, behind you and to the right.”

Jasmine sat forward and pretended to crack her back by rotating in her chair. Instead she caught a quick peek at the new subject. “Raphael Simmons. Senior on the football team who rides the bench and still managed to get a scholarship to UMD.”

“To your left, blond hair, leather jacket.”

“Otto Wicker.” Jasmine didn’t even have to look. “German transfer student who has every girl fawning over him, but much to their misery and my enjoyment, he’s taken.”

“By who?” Lydia asked curiously.

As if on cue, another blond guy walked down the aisle to sit next to Otto. The two exchanged a few words before sharing a quick kiss on the lips.

“Nice,” Lydia noted.

“Mmhmm,” Jasmine hummed in satisfaction, more at her own expertise than anything else. “Isaac Braam. Dutch transfer student.”

The rest of the school filed into the auditorium, and the lights began to dim. A few whispers hung in air, but all noise ceased when an older woman crossed the stage to stand at the podium. At first glance, one might assume her to be the evil stepmother.  She tapped the microphone twice, and a boom echoed throughout the hall. Then, her molded frown twisted upward into a warm smile.

“Is that any way to greet your headmistress?” she asked, raising her arms in confusion. Her question was met with a chorus of cheers from the audience and a round of applause. Sure, she may look like the evil stepmother, but everyone knew Mrs. Fenwick to be the fairy godmother.

“Come now, settle down,” Mrs. Fenwick instructed, and the audience immediately complied. “Before we get to the usual mumbo jumbo of the first day assembly–“ that was met with a collective groan of students. “–I know, I know, you’re all just so excited to get back to your classes, right?”

The noises of students’ pain melted into laughter, and Mrs. Fenwick cleared her throat to call back the attention. “Anyways, before we get to that, I have a very quick announcement.” She folded her hands on the podium and put on a serious face. “As you all know, my assistant headmaster from last year, Mr. Dean, retired. Lucky for us, the school board assigned me a new assistant. Please give a warm, Southern High welcome to Mr. Griffs!”

The audience clapped as the very large, intimidating man walked onto the stage and stood beside Mrs. Fenwick. Where other people would have waved or smiled, Griffs simply folded his hands behind his back and stared down at the audience with a stern glare. Lydia made a small noise of disgust.

“Don’t like him already?” Jasmine whispered as Mr. Griffs took the podium and began his speech.

“He’s the one who caught me in the halls after the bell,” Lydia told her. “He made a big deal out of it, took me to the office and everything.”

“Damn, girl.” Jasmine shook her head. “How are you still alive?”

“I had help,” Lydia answered, reaching into her pocket to feel for her late pass. 

“From who?”

By now, Mr. Griffs had concluded his very brief address, most of which consisted of bashing the school’s integrity and saying ‘how it’s truly fallen since he went here’. After he left the stage, there was a beat of awkward silence before Mrs. Fenwick took the podium once more. “And on that cheery note,” she laughed into the microphone. “It’s time for this year’s student master of ceremonies to give you the breakdown on the 2019-2020 school year!”

Strobe lights hit the stage as the marching band came out the wings. They put on a uniform arrangement that was probably ingrained in the memory of the student body. Jasmine’s question was drowned out in the deafening thunder of bass drums and tubas and the visual assault of two kids dressed as the Southern High Shark dancing in front of the band. Then, the marching band parted down the middle to make a large gap between them. A spotlight focused on the curtain behind them, awaiting the arrival of the elusive ‘master of ceremonies’.

And yet, no one appeared.

Several moments of tense silence ensued, and whispers once again bustled throughout the crowd. Even the marching band looked confused after they finished their song. Now, Lydia and Jasmine were actually paying attention.

“You’d think being the MC means that they’d let you pick your own intro song,” said a voice over the speakers. “But I guess Simple Plan doesn’t translate well into trumpets.”

The spotlight searched all over the auditorium, a sign that some poor lighting kid was having the worst day ever. The light flew from corner to corner. Jasmine and Lydia’s eyes followed the light until the two girls whirled around in their seats to see a student perched on a railing behind them. Lydia cracked a smirk at the familiar face.

“At least I know you’re all awake now,” said Robin, the apparent master of ceremonies, as they casually swung their legs back and forth. Despite the microphone in their hand projecting their voice, Lydia was close enough to hear them speak before it hit the speakers. “And on that note,” they proceeded, kicking off the railing with flare and making their way to the stage. “How are we doing, Southern High Sharks!”

The sudden exclamation brought about a round of cheers that far succeeded that which was given to Mrs. Fenwick. Even Lydia clapped along with the crowd while the letterman-clad MC took the stage.

“Them,” Lydia finally answered Jasmine’s long-standing question about her morning. “They helped me out this morning.”

“Robin?” Jasmine clarified, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah.”

Up on stage, the person in question made a dismissive waving motion to tell the crowd to quiet down. When it did, they put the microphone back up to their mouth. “Alright, I’ll keep the introductions short.” They put a hand on their chest. “My name’s Robin, I’m a senior, and I’ll be your master of ceremonies for the year.”

Again, applause, accompanied by a few more distinguishable shouts of ‘Yes Robin!’ or ‘Let them know, dude!’ to which Robin responded by smiling that lopsided smile and pointing at their friends in the audience. Lydia shook her head at the theatrics. It hadn't crossed her mind until right then, but she may have been talking to high school royalty that morning. Of course they were well-known. They were an athlete, a senior no less. She’d completely forgotten about that part during their brief encounter because they weren’t abrasive or arrogant like the Trevor Griffs of the Maitlands’ childhood. Now that Lydia thought about it, she didn’t know anything about this kid, but she was certainly curious about them. So, she turned to her most reliable source of information.

“Hey Jazz,” she asked her friend, hitching her chin at Robin, who had just begun going over school policies. “What do you know about them?”

“Oh honey.” Jasmine paused, meeting Lydia’s inquiring eyes with her own cautioning ones. “Are you sure you wanna hear all that?”

“Why not?” Lydia was weary of her tone. “Is it bad?”

“No, it’s just long,” Jasmine groaned in annoyance, jabbing a finger in Robin’s direction. “That’s a primo student-athlete up there, and Robin’s not the MC for no reason.” Lydia nodded her head at the explanation. From what she picked up from last year’s assemblies, the master of ceremonies was a figurehead trusted by both students and faculty. There’s something to be said for an athlete who also works in the office first period. Jasmine shrugged. “I’m just sayin’, it’s a lot of accolades.”

Lydia scrunched her nose in thought, reconsidering her request. “Can you give me the SparkNotes version?” 

“Yeah, just gimme a sec,” Jasmine agreed, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. During this time, Robin was going over important scheduling information. Jasmine narrowed her eyes at them, a sign of concentration, before saying, “Captain of the soccer team, stand out student." She bit her lip in thought. “Honor Societies galore, college soccer bound, blah blah” She took a deep breath. “Sort of came out as non-binary they’re sophomore year, and only about half the school paid attention.”

“What’s that mean?” Lydia questioned, confused.

“It wasn’t like they posted it on Instagram or anything, they just told a few close friends,” Jasmine elaborated. “Nothing else really changed. They never wore the skirt uniform, even before they came out, so it was really just about whether or not you could pick up on it.”

Lydia paused, letting that sink in. She felt a little proud to know she picked up on it… _eventually_. 

“How do you know?” she asked Jasmine.

“‘Cause I have eyes,” she retorted like it was obvious. “I saw their pin once during a photoshoot for the soccer team, and I asked their pronouns like a decent human being.”

Lydia looked down at her hands. That was definitely not what she did.

Jasmine noticed her silence. “That’s what you did, right?” She enunciated every syllable with a punch of expectancy. 

Again, Lydia opted not to reply.

“Lydia, what did you do?” Jasmine interrogated her.

Lydia squeezed her eyes shut. “I asked them if their jacket belonged to their girlfriend,” she summed it up with a grimace. She didn’t need to explain the context. It already sounded bad leaving her mouth.

Jasmine gave her the most lethal of disapproving glares. Then, she thumped Lydia’s wrist, which made the latter recoil her hand.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Jasmine deadpanned.

“Don’t thump me,” Lydia whined, holding her wrist against her chest.

“Nah you deserve to get thumped for that.” And she thumped Lydia again, this time in the arm.

“Shhhh!” Some random teacher came down to their row to hush them, and the duo gave the older woman their best innocent smiles. After the teacher went away, they dropped the act.

“I admit, it wasn’t my finest moment,” Lydia confessed after a beat, her face still hot with embarrassment. “But I learned my lesson.

Jasmine pursed her lips together and hummed in response, deciding she’d given Lydia enough of a hard time. “So what’d they say?” she asked.

“Huh?” Lydia lost track of the conversation.

“When you asked the stupid question about the girlfriend’s jacket,” Jasmine added.

“Oh, uh,” Lydia began, thinking back on that morning. As far as awkward conversations go, she remembered Robin taking it in stride. “They said they’d take it as a compliment.”

“Why?” Jasmine wondered aloud.

Lydia shrugged. She thought Jasmine was supposed to know everything about everyone. “Probably ‘cause they don’t have one,” she guessed, switching her attention back to Robin on stage. She didn’t actually pay attention to what they were saying. She just took a closer look at them. The poofy jacket hid most of their upper body, but an athletic build was to be expected. Angular jaw, hazel eyes, and dark hair that seemed to flow forward and then curl back at the front like a tidal wave. Then, there was the overall confidence in their posture and that undeniable charisma. It wasn’t like they were unpleasant to look at. Lydia tilted her head and added, “Kinda surprising if you ask me.”

Jasmine turned her whole body around to look at Lydia, who was still obliviously watching the assembly. “Aw no,” she drawled, disbelief written all over her face. “Hell no.”

Lydia looked at her with a furrowed brow. “What?”

Jasmine leaned in close, giving Lydia incredibly intense eye contact. She spoke slowly and clearly, and she punctuated with small hand gestures. “I swear to God, Lydia Deetz, if you start making heart eyes at Mx. Goldstar over there, I’ll slap you straight back into being a blonde.”

Lydia gasped, taken aback by the accusation. “I’m not!”

“You two, cut the chatter!” The same teacher from before gave them yet another warning glare, telling them to keep quiet or she’ll enforce consequences. The two put their conversation on hold until the teacher disappeared again. Jasmine sat up straight with her hands in her lap. Lydia slumped in her seat and folded her arms over her chest.

“I got my eye on you, Deetz,” Jasmine said threateningly, continuing their exchange without even taking her attention off the stage.

“Do your worst,” Lydia challenged her, still peeved at the audacity of her friend to make such ridiculous claims. “I don’t need some overachieving jock to save me from an abysmal high school experience.”

“Good,” Jasmine replied with a satisfied tilt of her head. “‘Cause I need your full focus this year.”

“For what?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

* * *

The assembly finished without any further excitement, and everyone went back to their regularly scheduled classes. Kim took her students back to the photography studio, which was really just an old, neglected art studio which had been repurposed to accommodate a photography class. There were still plenty of paint stains on the walls and tables, and the room still smelled vaguely of oil pastels. The only clean section of the room was in the back, where a white backdrop hung from the ceiling for photoshoots.

“Grab a seat, heathens,” Kim ordered like she wasn’t within a hair’s width of the same generation. “That assembly left us about twenty minutes to go over the syllabus.”

Lydia set her bag down at a table and sat on a stool. Jasmine sat across from her, and they were joined by two boys–one tall and slim, and the other short with curly red hair. There were only two other tables of four, and all of the students sat in silence, waiting for Kim to continue.

“Okay, I lied, there is no syllabus,” Kim revealed before taking a sip of her coffee. “Do I look like a Harvard professor to you?”

A couple of kids throughout the class laughed–the ones who knew Kim, anyway. The ones who were new to the photography environment were probably shaking at the lack of structure, but that’s just how Kim rolled. Teaching was never her dream profession, but she knows photography like a childhood friend. In fact, the school only hired her because she’s a verified photographer on almost all forms of social media. Lydia liked that about her. She was a true artist, which meant she taught to explore and share, not to stick a grade on an assignment.

“Anyway, for all the newbies in the room, I’m Jia Kim,” she introduced herself with a half-smile. “You can call me Kim, Jia, Ji–don’t care, but if you call me ‘Ms. Kim’–“ she pointed a finger to one of three doors in the side of the room “–I will lock you in the darkroom and drown you in photo fixer. Have I made myself clear?”

Yeah, Kim was _definitely_ Lydia’s favorite teacher.

After a handful of frightened kids nodded their heads and another handful shook their heads at those kids, Kim walked over to the doors she pointed at. “Great, now we can begin the tour.” She gestured to the first door. “As you probably already know, this is the darkroom. By no means are you allowed in here without my supervision, and no, I’m not gonna explain why.”

Jasmine leaned towards Lydia and whispered the reason, “My sophomore year, two seniors were caught in there doing, ya know.” She wiggled her eyebrows implicitly. Lydia’s face screwed up in disgust. Really? The _darkroom?_ Were kids her age really that horny?

“This door is the equipment closet,” Kim continued her tour with the middle door. She opened it up to reveal cameras, stands, and lighting galore. “If you break anything, I’m sending the bill to your parents.”

Lydia was enjoying watching all the new photo kids practically shake in their seats at Kim’s venomous and threatening nature, but she knew her teacher wasn't like that at all. All she could think about was the time Kim ordered the photography club two boxes of pizza and then proceeded to eat one all on her own.

“And lastly, door #3.” Kim turned to the class with her arms crossed and her expression grave. “Do _not_ touch door #3.”

Jasmine and Lydia shared a knowing glance. Behind the third door was an air mattress completely made into a small bed. Kim used it to take naps between classes.

“As for what this class will entail,” Kim went on, crossing over to her desk and sitting atop it. “I assign you something, you complete it. Whether you use a Polaroid or an iPhone camera doesn’t matter to me, as long as I can see you fulfilled the requirements of the assignment with some amount of effort.” She looked up in thought, reaching for what else to say. Then, she looked at Jasmine. “Am I forgetting anything else?”

“Photography club?” Jasmine suggested.

“Oh, right,” Kim mumbled before addressing the class once more. “And now Jasmine’s gonna talk to you guys about photography club.”

Jasmine gave Lydia a look, silently saying ‘she did not just do that’, to which Lydia could only fight to suppress a laugh. With a deep sigh, Jasmine took to the front of the room while Kim sat in a chair. Then, the senior faced the class and clapped her hands together.

“Hey y’all,” Jasmine greeted the class with new energy. “I guess I’m gonna talk about photography club.” Lydia could hear the subtle bitterness in her voice. “We meet every day after school starting Wednesday, and it’s just a way for you to get more eyes on your shots, get some feedback, and do the same for the rest of your club mates.” She put up a finger as if keeping the class from asking questions just yet. 

“Also,” she continued, and Lydia tilted her head in wonder. She thought Jasmine covered it. “The school paper has been talking to me since last semester, and we’ve decided to form a partnership between photo and journalism.” Crickets. Dead silence in the room. “Basically, to make up for journalism's lack of photo expertise, journalism will send us to events and we take pictures for the paper.”

“What’s in it for us?” asked the tall guy at Lydia’s table, Brady. He was in Lydia’s grade, and his style of photography was primarily things in motion. He was normally a laid back kind of guy, but he seemed averse to the idea of being told where to shoot.

“Exposure,” Jasmine answered curtly. “Photos with our names on the school website, more money for the photography program, free access to school events, including games and dances, so if you don’t wanna pay 70 bucks for prom, you might wanna jump on the wagon.”

At that, Brady shut his mouth and was suddenly on board. A few other students exchanged murmurs of approval.

“Ah, more money,” Kim sighed in glee. “I like the sound of that. Great networking, Jazz.”

“Thank you, Kim,” Jasmine nodded haughtily, shimmying her way back to her seat. Regular dull chatter restarted around the room, and once she returned to her table, jasmine muttered under her breath, “Someone’s gotta do work around here.

Lydia snorted at the comment. They both loved their teacher, but they knew she didn’t work on anything that wasn’t her photos.

“So is that why you need my 'undivided attention' this year?” Lydia asked, propping her chin up on a fist and waiting for Jasmine to brush her ego just a bit.

“Duh,” replied her friend, who had no problem giving Lydia a big head. “You’re probably the best black-and-white photographer in here.”

Lydia shrugged, dismissing the compliment like it was no big deal. “Thanks, but I’ll have to think about the offer,” she replied coyly.

“What, you got better things to do this year?” Jasmine asked, unimpressed with Lydia’s allusive performance. She knew photography was the only reason Lydia didn’t run away from the school screaming.

“Maybe I do,” Lydia sighed, inspecting her nails with disinterest. She shot a smirk in Jasmine’s direction. The latter narrowed her eyes at Lydia.

“Like Goldstar?”

Lydia’s smirk fell into an annoyed glare. Now, it was Jasmine’s turn to look all innocent and indifferent.

“Why can’t you let that drop?” Lydia whined in exasperation, throwing her head onto her forearms on the table. “I literally just met them this morning. They wrote me a late pass, we talked for two seconds, they walked me to class–that’s it!”

“That’s just it, Lyds,” Jasmine replied coolly. “You don’t talk to people.”

“Yes I do,” Lydia retorted defensively.

“Oh really?” Jasmine challenged. “Name one friend you have outside of photography.”

Lydia opened her mouth, but no names came to her head. She tried to think really hard about the one semester she was enrolled in and if she met any other people, but she feared Jasmine was right. She may have said she would give people a shot following the whole 'Highway to Hell' incident, but even when she’s not being broody, she’s still inclined to keep to herself.

“Mmhmm,” Jasmine hummed in disappointment. “That’s what I thought.”

“So what you’re saying is I shouldn’t meet more people?” Lydia checked. She’s sure Barbara would not approve of that plan.

“I’m just saying be careful with Robin,” Jasmine warned her in earnest, and Lydia furrowed her brow at the change in inflection. “Like I said earlier: primo student-athlete. Everyone knows them. They live in the high school spotlight, so I’d steer clear unless you wanna get thrown into that drama-filled spiral.”

Lydia considered her advice, but she wasn’t sure if it took. Everyone knew Robin; that much was irrefutable. They literally just introduced themselves to the whole school. And yet, compared to the introduction Lydia got, it seemed a lot less real. Incomplete, in her opinion.

_Doesn’t matter_ , she told herself with an audible exhale . If Robin was really as high up in the school food chain as Jasmine insisted, she wasn’t going to see them much anymore.

* * *

When the final bell went off, you could practically hear the whole school sigh in relief. Jasmine and Lydia, having their last class on the first floor, were easily able to escape the clutches of Southern High before the rest of the school poured out behind them.

“Hey, do you need a ride home?” Jasmine offered, pulling out her keys.

“No thanks, my stepmom should be here,” Lydia answered, pulling out her phone to see if Delia texted her. She looked at her friend in confusion. “And I thought your license was suspended.”

“Shhh,” Jasmine rushed to hush her and looked around, paranoid beyond reason. “Don’t be so loud about it.”

Lydia shook her head at her antics before pulling up her messages. Delia had just sent her a text: 

_ ‘In front of the school :)’ _

Lydia looked up from her phone only to find that Delia’s purple buggie was nowhere in sight. She scanned the immediate parking lot and still saw no sign of her stepmother’s unique, gravity-defying hairdo.

“Huh,” Lydia thought aloud. “Delia should be here by now.”

“Right behind you!” sang a melodic voice from behind them.

They turned around to see none other than Delia Deetz, strutting out of the school doors with her staple amount of dramatic presence.

“Delia?” Lydia questioned, a mild hint of horror evident in her voice. “What were you doing in the school?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Delia approached them and clapped her hands together, an utterly radiant smile etched into her face. “You know how I’m taking online classes to get a real certification in life coaching?”

A mildly concerning statement considering Lydia was her client at one point, but she simply pushed that thought aside and nodded.

“Well, I figured since I’m spending so much time at home, I’d give back to our local school system.” She finished her announcement with a rainbow-like arm gesture over her head. Neither girl in front of her reacted in any way, so Delia put her arms down and clarified, “I’ve joined the PTA!”

That registered with Lydia, and she was immediately filled with dread. “Oh no,” she groaned, tossing her head back. “Please tell me you’re not gonna be working at my school.”

“Of course not, just helping with events and such,” Delia answered, waving a hand like it was no big deal. Then, she snapped her fingers in remembrance. “Which reminds me, I hope you don't have any plans on Frida. I want you to help me run the concession stand at the ‘football team’s home opener’, whatever that means.”

“What?” Lydia gasped, frustrated that her Friday was already being hijacked. She didn’t have any plans yet, but there’s going to be a very bored demon in their house if she’d not back by a certain time. “Why me?”

“I think it could be a great bonding opportunity for us,” Delia tried for a persuasive tone, and while that evoked a bit of guilt in Lydia, it didn’t make her any more excited.

“But Delia–“ Lydia began to protest.

“Unfortunately Mrs. D,” Jasmine cut in, putting an arm around Lydia’s shoulders. “I’m afraid Lydia is busy that night."

“She is?” Delia asked.

“I am?” Lydia questioned.

“Yes,” Jasmine confirmed, acting like this was supposed to be common knowledge. However, it was news to Lydia. “As a standout member of the photography club, I’m sending her out to shoot for our school paper. Trust me, it’s a very glamorous opportunity.”

Another one of Jasmine’s many talents: She spoke ‘Delia’, a language Lydia was still trying to decipher.

“Hmm,” Delia hummed in approval. “I like it.” She and Jasmine exchanged excited smiles while Lydia just watched on in total bafflement. Then, Delia began to head towards the parking lot. “I’ll go get the car and drive it around, Lydia. Be back in a jiffy.”

“K, thanks.”

Delia took her leave and headed for the parking lot, a subtle sway in her hips as she went. The pair watched for a few moments before Lydia finally asked the question that neither of them knew the answer to.

“Where are you sending me, exactly?”

“I dunno yet,” Jasmine admitted with a shrug, yet she didn’t seem worried. “But it’s a Friday, there’s gotta be something going on.”

* * *

“I can’t believe there’s nothing else going on Friday!”

The following morning found Jasmine and Lydia waiting inside the school building for the first bell to ring. The former was feverishly scrolling through her phone when she came to the previously stated realization. This made Lydia fall against the wall and slide down in anguish.

“So you’re telling me that I’m stuck serving hot dogs and overpriced sodas with Delia at a football game?” she whined as she finally hit the floor.

“I don’t know what else to tell ya, girl,” Jasmine confessed, still trying to find something. “There aren’t any other major events. No games, no recitals, no nothin’!”

“Ugh!” Lydia exclaimed, banging her head against the wall with her eyes closed. “This couldn’t be any worse!”

“I’m sure it could,” Jasmine assured her, staring at something straight ahead. 

“How?” Lydia asked, opening one eye to look up at her friend.

“Robin could be walking over here,” Jasmine put out.

“How would that be worse?” And besides that, what did Robin have to do with any of this?

“Well, it’s happening.” At Jasmine’s statement, Lydia followed her gaze down the hall where, just as she said, Robin was making their way through the other clumps of students that had accumulated within the school. And they were definitely headed towards Jasmine and Lydia, the latter of which pushed herself onto her feet. Jasmine lightly slapped her arm and added, “Remember, I told you no heart eyes.”

Lydia turned on her with a murderous glare. “And I told you that you’re delusional!”

“Mornin’ Lydia.”

“Oh, hey Robin,” Lydia greeted with the most cordial of smiles, as if she wasn’t just planning her friend’s demise a few seconds ago. Jasmine gave her a sidelong glance. 

Robin, who missed Lydia’s 180 personality flip, simply switched their focus from Lydia to her companion and nodded at her. 

“Jasmine.”

“Goldstar.”

Robin snorted and looked at their feet, a reaction hidden meaning in the nickname. Lydia turned to Jasmine, finally picking up on a trend. “Why do you call them that?” she asked.

Jasmine was snickering in a devious way before she even began the explanation. “There was this one time in kindergarten–“

Robin rubbed their forehead in exasperation. “Jazz, please don’t–“

“–They got a gold star sticker on their spelling test, and I stole it!” Jasmine crowed, followed by a roar of laughter. “They cried about the rest of the day.”

“C’mon, I was five,” Robin appealed, their ears turning red in embarrassment.

“Still funny,” Jasmine asserted, whipping a tear from her eye.

Lydia looked between the two with newfound confusion. “You guys went to kindergarten together?”

“We did,” Robin affirmed, looping their thumbs in the single cross-strap of their backpack. “That tends to happen when you live two doors down from one another.”

Lydia leaned in towards Jasmine and whispered through a smile, “You never said you were neighbors.”

“You said SparkNotes so I gave you SparkNotes,” Jasmine shot back in the same fashion. Then, she decided to bring their visitor back into the conversation. “Anyway, whaddya want, Goldstar?”

“I actually came to ask Lydia something.” Robin pointed at the girl in question.

“Huh?” Lydia uttered, raising an eyebrow at them. She didn’t know what to expect, but she could feel Jasmine burning holes into the side of her head with her stare. She knew what Jasmine was thinking.

“Yeah,” Robin answered. “Did you get that late slip signed yet?”

Lydia didn’t show it, but she let out a mental sigh of relief. The last thing she needed was Jasmine seeing her ridiculous theories turn into some kind of truth. However, the real truth was that, surprise surprise, she did not get her late slip signed.

“You see, I was thinking about it last night,” Lydia began, fabricating her excuse as she went. “And I realized I couldn’t get an official document signed when my own name isn’t even on the paper.”

_Nice cover_ , she applauded herself. Even Robin gave her a chuckle in appreciation.

“You saw my little joke, I take it.” They flashed her that crooked smirk.

“Yeah,” Lydia snorted, reaching into her bag to pull out the neglected late slip and a pen. She scribbled something into the sheet before handing it to Robin. “There’s my full name.”

Robin took the sheet and inspected the writing. “Ah, Lydia Deetz,” they read aloud with a ridiculously official-sounding voice. They lowered the slip and made like they were about to leave. “I’ll go make a new slip for ya right away.”

“Good luck at your game tonight,” Jasmine said monotonously without looking up from her phone. Then, she glanced up at Robin with a questioning look. “Ya’ll usually play on Tuesday’s, right?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear? It got moved.” Robin stopped in their tracks and turned to face the other girls once more. “The home team’s field didn’t drain properly or something, so they moved the game to Friday.” 

Jasmine and Lydia froze on the spot.

_ Friday. _

“It’s kinda rough if you ask me,” Robin mused dejectedly. “Now no one’s gonna come out to watch us play an away game when football’s got the home turf.”

“Lydia’ll be there,” Jasmine declared, giving her friend a shove in Robin’s direction. 

“What?” Lydia turned on her.

“Would you rather sling burgers with your step-mom?”

“I’ll be there,” Lydia agreed. Robin looked between the two, brow furrowed in puzzlement. Lydia quickly elaborated, “For journalism. I’ll be taking photos for the school paper.”

“Oh, okay then,” Robin nodded in understanding. “Well since it’s for the school, I can talk to my coach and see if we can spare a seat for you on the bus. Save you the trouble of travel. Here–“ They pulled out their phone and swiped it open “–Can you put your number in my phone so I can keep you updated?”

“Sure.” Lydia took their phone, clad in a bright red case, and tapped in her number.

“Great,” Robin said, taking their phone back when Lydia offered it to them. “I’ll go get that late pass. See ya in a bit.”

Then they left, leaving the two young photographers in their wake.

“Lydia.”

“Yeah?”

“You just gave Robin your number.” Jasmine’s tone had a hint of implication, like Lydia was supposed to interpret some message of disappointment from her voice. SLo and behold, she didn’t get it.

“So?” Lydia asked.

“Oh my god,” Jasmine said with equal measures of realization and astonishment. “You’re one of the useless ones.”

“What?” Lydia turned to her, totally lost on the meaning. However, Jasmine had already started walking away as well.

“See you in photo!”

“Wait no!” Lydia yelled after her. “What do you mean by ‘useless’?!”

No answer came. Instead, the warning bell rang, indicating Lydia had five minutes to walk into the other building and trudge up three flights of stairs. Not to mention she still had to wait for Robin with that new late pass.

_Robin_ , Lydia remembered with a surge of relief. _And their fancy elevator key._

So she folded her hands over her skirt and leaned her back against the wall, waiting patiently for Mx. Goldstar to save the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Hope y'all enjoyed chapter 2! I really like where I'm headed with this story (believe me, I have chapters and chapters planned) and I can't wait to keep writing it. I got some great feedback last time, very helpful as well as heart-warming, and I hope to hear more from you guys :) Thanks for reading! Have a good one! -Jojo, who may have just contracted the Field House Flu from their team, goddamnit!


	3. The Lady in Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The queen of spades usually holds a scepter and is sometimes known as 'the bedpost queen', though more often she is called 'black lady'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: ONE instance of misgendering

Friday morning came faster than anyone expected, but nobody was complaining. Friday meant all the students were just a few classes away from the freedom of the weekend. Friday meant the first dress-down day, so all the students were exempt from their dull uniforms. And for some, Friday meant game day.

Lydia never thought she would be one of _that_ some.

“I know it’s useless to say it,” Jasmine remarked as she strode up to Lydia, who had been waiting inside the school for her friend. She made a wide gesture to Lydia's appearance. “But shouldn’t a dress-down day be spent straying _away_ from school colors?”

Lydia smirked, amused that Jasmine would even suggest she stray away from her go-to color: black. From the tights under her distressed jean shorts to her black graphic tee and all the way down to her black boots, she didn’t depart from her own self-designated color scheme. Jasmine, on the other hand, was wearing a yellow dress under a green denim jacket. Sometimes, it was a miracle these two ever saw eye to eye.

“What can I say?” Lydia sighed, leaning a shoulder against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest. “I like black.”

“I’m just sayin,” Jasmine said with her hands up. “Wearing a shirt that says ‘Get In Loser’ with a coffin right under it might be a bit intimidating.”

“So?” Lydia shrugged, tilting her head to the side menacingly. “Why not be intimidating?”

“Lyds, I love you,” Jasmine chuckled, unimpressed by Lydia’s attempt at being creepy. “But you are a handful at times.”

“I beg to differ,” Lydia scorned her in jest. “And I want a second opinion.”

“Well, you’re about to get one,” Jasmine stated matter-of-factly, holding her wrist up to look at her watch. “In three…”

“What are you talking about?” Lydia quirked an eyebrow at the countdown.

“Two…”

“Jazz?”

“Hey Lydia.”

When Lydia turned around, she found the now-familiar voice to have come from Robin standing behind her. 

“One,” Jasmine concluded her countdown with a self-satisfied smile. “7:15 on the dot as always, eh Goldstar?”

“It never hurts to be consistent,” Robin answered with a shrug. Meanwhile, Lydia was narrowing her eyes at Jasmine. Now she knew why her friend had been counting down. For the past couple of days, Robin walked up to them every morning to talk to Lydia, and Jasmine had clearly noticed.

“Right, and on that note,” Jasmine said, looking at Lydia. “I’m off to class, so I’ll see you in photo–“ she turned to Robin “–and please make sure she doesn’t get hit by a soccer ball tonight.”

“Will do,” Robin agreed as Jasmine walked away. They shoved their hands into their pant pockets and took a deep breath. Lydia only now took a good look at them and realized they seemed entirely resistant to dressing down. They were decked out in a full three-piece suit, like the main character in a spy movie. Lydia seriously wondered if she was dreaming…

Because it was weird. Not for any other reason.

“You good?” Robin’s question made Lydia shake herself out of staring, and she slapped on a small smile.

“You know it’s called dress-down day for a reason, right?” she reminded them, though their reaction indicated that they were well aware of how overdressed they were.

“Yeah, I know,” they groaned, sheepishly looking down at their feet. “But our coach makes us dress up for away games regardless.”

“Wow.” Lydia looked them up and down once more before reaching out and flicking their red bow tie. “Well, very spiffy, James Bond.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Robin said in a ridiculous rendition of the Bond accent, after which hey cleared their throat. “So, did you get my email last night?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lydia went rummaging through her bag and eventually pulled out a single sheet of paper. Across the top, it read ‘Release for Bus Travel’. She held it out to Robin. “Here, I got that form you sent me.”

“Ah huh,” Robin hummed, taking the sheet from her and inspecting the fine print. They narrowed their eyes at the bottom of the form. “Did you get it signed by a parent?”

“Yeah, it should be signed,” Lydia insisted, walking around so she was next to Robin. She looked down at the form and pointed at the bottom with a smug expression. “See, right there. Charles Deetz, signed and dated.”

“Great.” Robin pulled the paper away from Lydia, and the latter was forced to look up at their expectant smirk. “So where is that signed late slip?”

_ Busted. _

“Oh, right,” Lydia drawled, scratching behind her ear in fake-thought. The truth was: Lydia had plenty of opportunities over the past week to get that little piece of paper signed. In fact, she had it in her pocket when she asked her dad to sign the travel form. However, for every morning that Lydia didn’t turn in that late slip, there was another morning that Robin would have to ask her about it, and something inside Lydia didn’t want that to stop. She just didn't know how to tell them that. “About that–“

“Lydia, you don’t have to come up with an excuse.” Robin cut her botched explanation off with a small wave of their hand. “I know why you haven’t turned it in.”

“You-you do?” Lydia asked nervously. She herself didn’t really know. How could Robin?

“I do.” They reached into their pocket and pulled out their black lanyard, the same one Lydia sees every morning. “You don’t wanna take the stairs, so you wait for me to come around with the elevator key. Am I right?”

"Uh." Lydia froze. While it was true that, in addition to always asking her about the late slip, Robin had made a habit of taking her up to class in the elevator, that didn’t feel like the sole reason she tried to keep them around. And yet, she still couldn’t verbalize what really stopped her from getting that slip signed. 

“That’s what I thought,” Robin said with a nod of their head. Lydia’s heart tugged when she saw a brief flash of hurt fly across their face. They quickly covered it up with a smile as the first bell went off. “Well, there’s our cue.”

They started to walk towards the elevator, putting a bit of distance between them before Lydia found sensation in her feet again. She ran around Robin to stand in front of them and effectively stopped them from going any further.

“Wait, Robin.” She wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to say, but the expectant look on Robin’s face told her she had to say something. They were under the impression she was using them for the elevator, but she honestly didn’t give a damn about the elevator. She just had to show them that.

Lydia hooked her thumbs around the strap of her back and pursed her lips together before asking, “You wanna walk me to class?”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Robin held up their keys again.

“No, I mean–” Lydia took pause to push Robin’s hand and their keys out of view. “Do you wanna walk me up three flights of stairs to my class.”

Robin paused at first but then chuckled, putting their keys back in their pocket. “Do you actually need someone to walk with you?” 

“Not really.” Lydia shrugged. “But I’d appreciate the company.”

Robin’s face slowly broke into a lopsided grin, and Lydia felt a weight lift off her shoulders. “Yeah,” Robin said with a nod of their head. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

So Lydia rolled off to their side, and the two began the trek to Lydia’s class. For a while, they made small talk. Lydia asked how Robin’s feeling about their last first game of the season, and Robin asked Lydia if she’s ready to see her first Southern High soccer game. Once they started going up the stairs, their conversation turned into equal amounts of talking and wheezing. Robin kept a steady pace up the steps while Lydia felt like she was barely keeping up the whole time. 

At one point near the top, Lydia managed to regain her place next to Robin yet again when someone else going down the stairs bumped into Robin, who then bumped against Lydia’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Robin mumbled automatically, dismissing the incident instantly. For Lydia, on the other hand, it gave her an idea. She nudged her shoulder against their arm with just enough force to throw them a little off balance. They furrowed their brow at Lydia, who just shrugged with an innocent look. In retaliation, they knocked into Lydia again, pushing her just slightly to the side. She returned the favor, though they didn't budge as much since they were ready that time.

“You are playing a dangerous game, Lydia Deetz,” Robin warned her.

“What, are you afraid of a little competition?” Lydia’s suggestion made them push out a curt laugh.

“Of course not.” They straightened their collar with a confident air about them. “I’m just not sure it’d be a fair fight.”

Lydia considered them for a moment. Then, she looked up to see they’d reached the last set of stairs. With a devious glint in her eye, she stopped on the landing, making Robin also stop. For a moment, she didn’t say anything. This caught Robin off guard and put them right where Lydia wanted them.

“Race you to the top!”

Then she bolted, double-stepping the stairs as fast as she could. When she made it to the top, she spun around to see Robin still jogging up the stairs. They made it to the fourth floor a few seconds later, and Lydia victoriously put her hands on her hips.

“Keep up, Robin,” she taunted, trying not to sound winded by the sprint. “Aren’t you supposed to be an athlete or something?”

“For one.” Robin held up one finger while using the other hand to lean against the railing. “I easily weigh twice as much as you do, so this was never a fair race to begin with.” They put up another finger. “Second, it’s not easy to run up stairs in dress pants.”

“All I hear are excuses,” Lydia teased, slowly pivoting on one foot before heading in the direction of her class. Now, Robin had to run to keep up.

“Whatever,” Robin said in mock-arrogance. “I don’t need to hear athletic critique from a photo kid.”

Lydia snorted. “Sore loser.”

It wasn’t long before they reached room 408 (for the fifth time that week). Despite the soreness in her legs, Lydia was proud.

“We made it,” she boasted, jabbing a finger into the lapel of Robin’s blazer with every following word. “No elevator key required.”

“That we have.” Robin chuckled bashfully, humbled by the error in their thinking. “I guess you’ve proven me wrong.”

Lydia's face grew warm, and that tug in her chest came back but in a different, more pleasant way. “Ya know,” she drawled, folding her hands behind her back. “I still can’t guarantee I’ll get that late slip signed any time soon.”

Robin smirked. They caught on. “Is that so?”

Lydia nodded.

“Well, I’m warning you.” They put their hands in their pockets and puffed out their chest. “I’m a far more formidable stair-racer in khakis.”

Lydia scoffed. “And I can’t wait to prove you wrong again.”

“We’ll see about that.” Robin sent her a challenging glare, and Lydia returned it in spades. “Just get to class before you end up late again. I’ll see you on the bus later.”

They gave Lydia a small two-finger salute before taking their leave, heading towards the elevator to go back down to their job in the office. Lydia rolled her eyes and walked into her classroom.

* * *

“Hey, can you pass me the other lens?”

“Sure thing.”

With only a few minutes left in photography class, Lydia and Jasmine took it upon themselves to pack a camera bag for what would be 'the beginning of Lydia’s career in sports photography', as Jasmine so endearingly loved to put it. After Jasmine handed her the lens, Lydia closed the bag and slung it over her shoulder. Meanwhile, her friend pressed her fingertips to her lips and closed her eyes in a fake cry.

“I feel like I’m sending my baby off to war,” she wept into her hand. Then, she pulled a handkerchief out of thin air and used it to blow her nose before making it vanish again.

Lydia shook her head at the theatrics. “So dramatic, Jazz.” Then, her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out in genuine wonder. On the screen, she saw a message from Robin.

_ Bus arrives at 3:30. We leave at 4. _

Lydia was about to type a simple ‘k thanks’, but after that morning, she found she got a rush from rustling the feathers of her school’s ‘primo student-athlete’. So, she typed something a little more provocative.

_ hope u play soccer better than u run up stairs _

She hit send, barely able to hide a smirk. A minute hadn’t even passed when her phone buzzed again with Robin’s response. She saw a picture with two figures: one was a great big lion, standing proudly with a stoic glare fixed on its features, and the other was a tiny black cat, sitting with its tail waving behind it. Beneath the picture, Robin wrote the following:

_ Me vs you _

Lydia was quick to reply, pulling up a gif of a chicken and sending it with a clap back:

_ nah u look more like this _

When Robin replied with nothing more than a middle finger emoji, Lydia could no longer suppress her snort of laughter. What she didn’t know was Jasmine was watching her through the whole exchange.

“That was painful,” the older girl stated flatly, making Lydia look up from her phone. “Like I might actually have to bleach my eyes to forget the agony of witnessing whatever the hell that was.”

“Jeez, I thought I was the morbid one.” Lydia held up her phone. “I just saw something funny.”

Putting her phone within Jasmine's range was a _big_ mistake. She swiped the phone faster than Lydia could react. “Let’s see what’s so funny then," she mocked, typing in Lydia's password like it was no big deal she knew it.

Lydia scrambled to get her phone back, but Jasmine was already scrolling through her messages with an attentive eye. There was no visible reaction on her face yet. Just her staple amount of judgment. After a moment, she set Lydia’s phone back on the table and looked at her nails indifferently. Lydia waited for a beat, expecting her to make some kind of inflammatory comment, but it never came. So, she slowly reached for her phone and pulled it back to her side of the table.

Then, Jasmine opened her mouth. “Your way of flirting is weird.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Maybe because it’s not flirting.” She double-checked her texts to make sure none of it gave an impression of flirting, but all she saw a chicken and rude hand gestures. She narrowed her eyes at Jasmine. “Even if it was, why do you seem so against me talking to Robin?”

“Honey, if I were really against it, I wouldn’t have given your phone back.”

“Jasmine.” Lydia wanted a real answer.

Jasmine pressed her lips into a firm line, considering the question with deep severity. Then, she leaned in closer to keep their conversation to themselves, not that anyone else could hear them from where they sat in the back of the room. “Okay look,” Jasmine began with a sigh. “You know how I claim to know everything about everyone.”

“You _do_ know everything about everyone,” Lydia asserted.

“Oh yeah? Well I’ve lived down the street from Robin my whole life, and I still don’t know them.” Jasmine confession confused Lydia, and it showed on the latter’s face.

“I thought you said you knew a lot,” Lydia recounted, referring to what Jasmine told her at the first-day assembly. "SparkNotes, remember?"

“I know the same stuff everyone knows.” Jasmine waved a hand around to emphasize just how unimpressive her knowledge really was. “Everyone knows who Robin is, but nobody _really_ knows who Robin is.”

“That makes no sense,” Lydia stated, getting tired of this weird debriefing.

“Okay.” Jasmine tapped her chin in thought and looked around the room. Her eyes landed on a brunette at a far table, and she pointed the girl out to Lydia. “You see Lily Strickland over there?” Lydia nodded. “She’s a junior on the soccer team, so she’s known Robin for a little over two years now.”

“Jazz, I don’t think–“

“Hey, Lily!” Jasmine called out cheerily before Lydia could protest any further. The girl in question turned to the pair with a friendly grin. Jasmine’s smile seemed a little more forced. “Hey girl, quick question: who do you think is the starting goalkeeper for your game tonight?”

“Uh, probably Robin,” Lily answered like it was obvious, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “She’s been the starter since her freshman year.”

As soon as it hit Lydia’s ears, she realized how wrong it sounded. What she found even more interesting was a couple of other kids around the room looked up from whatever they were working on and stared at Lily like she grew a second head. None of them said anything, and they went back to their work. 

After the soccer player went back to her phone, Jasmine summed up the exchange,  “Even their own teammates didn’t get the message.” 

“Okay, so some people are ignorant.” Lydia shrugged, though she was more annoyed than she let on. “I still don’t see what any of this has to do with me and Robin.”

“Hold up.” Jasmine put up a finger, telling Lydia to wait while she dug through her backpack. She eventually pulled out an unopened pack of cards. “Alright, lemme explain it to you like this.”

“You carry a fresh deck of cards in your backpack?” Lydia deadpanned.

“Obviously.” Jasmine ripped off the plastic and opened the box before pulling out the cards. She held it with the faces toward Lydia so the latter could see the ace of spades. “You see this deck?”

“Yeah.”

“Brand new, unshuffled, as it has always been since it was manufactured,” Jasmine droned on like she was talking about a new car model. Then, with practiced elegance, she broke the deck and pulled out a small packet of cards in a way that made them look like they floated within her hands. When she spread the smaller deck of cards on the table, Lydia saw they were all the same suit. “These are the diamonds. They’ll represent anyone in our school you can consider popular–athletes, VSCO girls, that one band kid who gets invited to all the parties .”

“Okay?” Lydia had no idea where this was going.

Jasmine pulled out one card from the diamonds and pushed it towards Lydia, who glanced down to see a lady with a flower staring back at her. “And right here is the queen of diamonds, right?”

“Right.”

“Wrong.” Jasmine snapped her fingers and flipped the card over. Where Lydia expected to see the back of the card, she saw a jack. “This is the jack of diamonds, but the rest of the diamonds don’t see a jack.” She slapped the face of the jack, making Lydia jump slightly from the sudden movement. When Jasmine pulled her hand away, the card was the queen again. “So as far as they know, that’s a queen.”

Lydia looked between the cards and Jasmine, brows raised. “Cute trick.”

“Do you get what I’m saying though?” Jasmine squinted at Lydia. 

“Not really.” 

“Alright, I’ll keep going.” Jasmine laid out the rest of their cards into three more rows, each of their own suit. Once all the cards were on the table, Jasmine used her hands to guide Lydia’s attention to all the face cards. “Every other suit has a jack, so they all recognize the jack.”

Jasmine waited, expecting that one line to suddenly explain everything, but Lydia just stared at her with a blank expression. Jasmine smacked her lips together and decided to use layman’s terms.

“Lydia, when was the last time you saw a movie or TV show where the hometown hero was non-binary?”

That clicked in Lydia’s brain. She couldn’t name a single character in common media that shared Robin’s affiliation. She knew what non-binary meant thanks to copious hours spent on the internet, but Robin was the first live example she’d ever met. 

“Oh, shit,” Lydia mumbled.

“Now you get it,” Jasmine praised, holding her arms above her head like she was thanking the forces that be for Lydia’s breakthrough. Her moment of glory was short-lived, for Jasmine resumed her mission of telling a proverb through cards. “Moving on, this is you.” She pulled a card from a black suit–obviously–and showed it to Lydia. “The queen of spades, often referred to as the black lady. On any standard-issue card deck, her sleeve pattern is the same as the one that’s stabbing the king of hearts in the head.” She turned the card around to reveal the king of hearts on the back. Lydia squinted at the sleeves holding the knife in the king’s head, and sure enough, they were eerily similar to the black queen’s sleeves.

Jasmine flipped the card back around and gave Lydia a pointed look. “I think it fits you perfectly.”

The joke is that Lydia is the most likely of them to commit murder. What Jasmine didn’t know is that Lydia actually has committed murder.

“Anyway, jack of diamonds and queen of spades.” Jasmine picked up the neglected queen of diamonds and changed the face back to a jack with a mere flick of her wrist. “Different colors and different suits–you and Goldstar run in different circles, different grades. As far as I know, you don’t have a single class together–”

“You’ve made your point–“ Lydia interjected Jasmine’s rambling.

“Not quite.” Jasmine swiftly rounded all the cards back up into their original deck. “In an unshuffled deck, the diamonds and spades may be adjacent, but the queen of spades and jack of diamonds have a good eleven card gap to cross before they meet.” She made the two cards poke out the top of the deck to emphasize the gap between them. It was small, but it was a gap nonetheless “The only chance they have of meeting is if you shuffle the deck, or in your case–“ The queen of spades flew out of the deck “–get lost on your first day.”

“So?” Lydia shrugged. “You’re making it sound like shuffling the deck is a bad thing.”

“It can be,” Jasmine stressed, putting the black queen back into the deck. She spread the cards in her hands, but only the visible cards were the diamonds with the queen of spades nestled within them. “The queen of spades could end up surrounded by diamonds on all sides, or–“ Now it was the jack’s turn to fly out of the deck “–the jack could be cast out of the diamonds.”

Lydia knew what Jasmine was getting at. She was saying that Lydia could end up dragged into the merciless trenches of high school popularity with no real friends to pull her out, or she could single-handedly cause Robin’s estrangement from their current crowd. In her opinion, both options sounded utterly ridiculous.

“Hey, can I see those cards?” Lydia requested, holding her hand out. Jasmine put the red jack and the black queen back in their original positions and placed the deck in her grasp. Lydia looked at the deck thoughtfully for a moment before putting it between her thumb and middle finger. With a blank expression, she put a little push in her fingers, and the cards went flying all over the floor.

Jasmine glared daggers at her. “You can be a real asshole sometimes, you know that Deetz?”

Lydia snickered at her friend’s irritation, but she put the whole card metaphor aside for a moment. “I appreciate the advice,” she said in earnest. “But I don’t think I’m gonna ruin some high school food chain by making a new friend.”

Jasmine let out a frustrated sigh, but she didn’t fight Lydia’s reasoning. “I just don’t like not knowing someone,” she admitted. She’d never say it, but Lydia knew she found security in knowing who everyone in the school really was. It made foreseeing incoming conflict a breeze when she knew the forces at play. Jasmine gave Lydia a grave look. “I can’t tell you how it’ll all work out.”

“Then just leave that part to me,” Lydia appealed with a smirk. “I’m not afraid of a little risk.”

“Fine, but–“ Jasmine picked up a random card. When she turned it face up, it just happened to be the ace of spades. Lydia knew that was meant to be Jasmine’s marker. “–You know I’m always looking out for you, right?”

Lydia nodded, a warm grin spreading onto her face. “Of course I do, Jazz.”

* * *

When the bell rang to signal release for the weekend, Jasmine took Lydia to a local strip mall down the street from the school. It was a regular after-school hangout for all of Southern High’s students, so around 2:30, the plaza was crawling with antsy teenagers. The duo spent most of Lydia’s hour of free time in a small-town café, prattling endlessly about anything under the sun when the well-dressed soccer captain themself walked in.

“Jack of diamonds, six o’ clock,” Jasmine mumbled under her breath, running a fingertip around the edge of her tea. 

Lydia sighed at the code name but dismissed it anyway. Then, she turned around in her chair to see Robin standing in line, a smoothie in one hand and their jacket dangling over their shoulder in the other. They glanced aimlessly about the café until their eyes landed on Lydia. She gave them a small wave, and they returned a winning smile. 

“What a champ,” Jasmine drawled. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Lyds.”

“Still just friends,” Lydia reminded her in mild annoyance. “And I thought we agreed to leave the playing cards out of this.”

“I agreed to let you do whatever you wanted.” Jasmine reached into her sleeve and pulled out the ace of spades. “But I’ll retain my right to bear cards.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and sipped her drink while Jasmine checked her watch. “Well, I gotta jet before my boss kills me for being late again.”

Lydia nearly choked on her tea. “You got a job?”

“Yeah, at the local holiday store,” Jasmine stated as she stood up. “I gotta pay my speeding tickets somehow.”

“Wait, you’re leaving right now?” Lydia frowned. “How am I supposed to get back to school?”

“Hitch a ride with Goldstar,” Jasmine suggested as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door. “Good luck at the game! Don’t get run over!”

“What?” Lydia turned in her chair to watch Jasmine leave. “Why would I–?”

“Where’d Jasmine run off to?”

Lydia whirled back around to find Robin standing at her table. They were staring at the door as Jasmine left the café, brow furrowed in confusion. 

“She had to go to work,” Lydia explained, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. Her voice took on a bitter tone. “And she took my ride back to school with her.”

“Well, I walked here, and I was just about to walk back.” They screwed their face up in a dramatic show of distress. “Unfortunately, I don’t have an elevator key for that trip.”

Lydia shot a glare at them, which they received with a smug grin. “Ha ha, very funny, Robin.”

“Seriously though, if you’re ready to go, I can walk you back,” they offered. Lydia paused, pretending to consider the proposition for a moment until they added cheekily, “Wouldn’t want you getting lost.”

“Wow, you’ve got jokes today.” Lydia narrowed her eyes at them as she stood up from her chair. Robin took a step back to give her room while she collected her things.

“Just paying you back for the chicken thing.” Robin shrugged, leaning in slightly and bumping their shoulder against Lydia’s. She sighed, taking it upon herself to fix their crooked tie.

“Well then, knight in shining bow tie…” Lydia teased, switching her attention from the neck garment to their brown eyes. “Lead the way.”

* * *

The walk back was about half a mile, and Robin found a way to keep the conversation going the whole way. Lydia didn’t pride herself on being the best conversationalist. Most of the time she just let Robin go off on a convoluted tangent which was always preceded by something along the lines of “I don’t wanna bore you with the details,” but Lydia always gave them the go-ahead. It wasn’t like they were conceited and loved the sound of their own voice; they just had a lot to say.

When the two strolled up to the side of the school, they could see a school bus parked right in front of the doors. Lydia would have kept walking if it wasn’t for the fact that Robin stopped dead in their tracks. She gave them a look of concern when they appeared in deep thought.

“Would you mind holding this for a minute,” Robin asked, handing Lydia their smoothie. Whatever was on their mind looked serious, so Lydia thought nothing of taking their drink for a moment. They pulled their phone out of their pocket and started scrolling through it. The uncharacteristic silence made Lydia worry.

Not after long, Robin broke the silence. “Hey, you’re boot’s untied.”

Lydia glanced down. “Huh?”

“Race you to the bus!”

When Lydia looked up, Robin had already taken off and covered half the distance to the bus in just a few strides. She ran to catch up, but now she had Robin’s goddamn smoothie to carry. The whole thing was ruse to slow her down. She should have known. Her boots didn’t have laces!

“Not fair!” she yelled when they reached the bus and pumped their arms up in victory. When Lydia finally caught up to them, she was out of breath from the sudden sprint. “I thought you said you couldn’t run in dress pants.”

Robin made a show of moving their legs around. “Huh, they must’ve stretched out throughout the day.”

Lydia was about to make a witty retort when another voice cut in.

“Robin! What are you doing out here?!” shouted a short, old man as he stepped off the bus. “Go down to the locker room and make sure the team is out here and on the bus in ten minutes.”

At his command, Robin nodded their head and made to leave. “On it, Coach.”

“And who the hell is this?” He gestured to Lydia, who was offended he didn’t just ask her.

“Oh, you remember that photographer I told you about?” Robin reminded him, walking back to Lydia’s side. “This is Lydia Deetz. She’s shooting our game for the school paper.”

Lydia forced a smile as best she could, but the coach just looked her up and down with the most unimpressed expression.

“Did you forget to mention that we gotta dress out to away games?” The coach took up the accusative tone with Robin, but Lydia felt the attack on her as well. It was called a dress-down day for a reason, but clearly, the coach did not seem to care. “What will other schools think of us if our students show up to their campuses dressed like–“

“Come on, Coach, give me some credit,” Robin interjected suavely before their coach–or Lydia, for that matter–blew a gasket. “It was a little warm out, so I was holding her blazer for her.” Lydia arched a brow at Robin, who simply gave her a look that said ‘ _go along with it_ ’ as they draped their jacket over Lydia’s shoulders. “See, she did dress up.”

As Lydia threaded her arms into the sleeves, she became painfully aware of something she didn’t like to admit: she is small. Robin’s jacket was built for someone who was _not_ small, and the coach could tell.

“You call that dressing up?” he jeered.

“Sure.” Robin shrugged, going along with their ploy. They gave their coach a critical look. “Style expectations are changing, sir. Not all girls wear dresses.”

That last comment made their coach shuffle his feet awkwardly. He was thrown off guard and didn’t know how to respond, so he merely grumbled, “Just make sure your team’s on the bus.” Then, he marched back onto the bus, muttering nonsense to himself along the way.

“Wow,” Lydia said after a beat of silence. “He seems just about as pleasant as Griffs.”

Robin nodded. “And he’s from an earlier decade, so he can be even worse.” They turned to face Lydia, drawing her attention away from the bus. “But he lays off me since I’m kind of a major player.” They pulled their collar up in a haughty fashion, but it just looked bizarre with the bow tie.

Lydia chortled, “Cocky much?” 

“In all fairness, any player can win a game.” They proudly put a hand to their chest. “But it’s the keeper who saves the game.”

“Ah huh,” Lydia nodded along, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re a keeper alright.”

Robin gave her a snarky grin. “I’d like to think I’m quite the catch.”

“Ha, nope,” Lydia said flatly, doing her best to suppress any kind of amusement for that awful play on words. She brushed past Robin, pushing their smoothie into their chest as she went. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

Robin took their smoothie back with a chuckle of satisfaction. They spun around and held their arms out in dejection. “Come on, not even a laugh?”

“You lost all rights to laughs,” Lydia declared over her shoulder as she neared the bus door.

“It’s no right if it’s a privilege.” That little comment made Lydia halt in her efforts to get on the bus. She could no longer fight the tiny smile that spread its way onto her lips. She turned back around to face Robin, who bore a proud look but spoke in a warm tone. “See, I’m already getting it back.”

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t you have a team to rally?”

Robin looked down at their feet, appearing as bashful as Lydia felt. “I’ll be back for my jacket,” they warned in good nature.

“Really? I thought I might keep it.” Lydia played around with the lapels, folding them over one another to tighten the otherwise baggy garment. “I really like the color.”

Robin shook their head. “Okay, ‘lady in black’.” They started to head back into the school, waving over their shoulder as they went. “See ya in a bit.”

Once they disappeared within the school, Lydia opted to not go onto the bus until the soccer team was there with her (she’d rather not be alone on a bus with a creepy old guy, thank you very much). Until then, she took it upon herself to double-check her camera bag to make sure she wasn’t missing anything. She had everything, and she even found something a little extra in the front pocket. Somehow, without Lydia’s knowledge, Jasmine snuck the queen of spades into the bag. Lydia smirked at the card before slipping it into the pocket of Robin’s jacket. 

Jasmine wasn’t the only one who could play cards.


	4. Seeing More Of Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks into the school year and Lydia's new photography gig is getting her a little more attention than she bargained for. To make matters even worse, Delia found out she's failing biology and is making her get a tutor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is safe and healthy during these scary times. Look out for one another and pray for those you don't know! Also make sure you're taking care of yourself as you always should. I hope you can find some entertainment in this new update :) -Jojo, who wrote two chapters in the time it usually takes them to write one, holy crap!

“I’m serious!”

“Nah, I still think you’re fucking with me.”

Up in her room on a late Sunday night, Lydia sat at her desk, which was lit only by her computer screen. Well, her computer screen and the small screen of her phone. It was propped against her camera and pointed at her, and on the phone was the face of her very own consultant in sports photography…aka Robin. 

“I’m not,” Lydia insisted, clicking her mouse a few times to make different pictures flash across the screen. She grabbed her phone and flipped the camera to show Robin what she was referring to.“You stick your tongue out every time you go to kick the ball.”

Robin hummed in consideration, squinting at pictures through their phone. “Nope, that’s not me,” they concluded, leaning back in their chair. “You shot the wrong game, Lyds.”

“Shut up, you know I didn’t,” Lydia huffed her lips in frustration, but Robin just laughed. She was sure Robin couldn’t see very far into her room due to the low lighting, but Lydia could peek into the space they called home. The walls were grey but covered from top to bottom in soccer posters, inspirational banners, or collages of smaller pictures. Lydia tried not to pay as much attention to Robin spinning idly in their chair when she should have been focusing on sorting through her pictures. She had a deadline to meet.

After three weeks of shooting games for the soccer team, the journalism club was starting to breathe down her neck. Her photos were apparently the last thing they needed for this month's issue, and they were all livid with the fact that she had several games on her camera and sent no photos. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t turn the pictures in yet. She was never supposed to be in this position in the first place. She didn’t even know the first thing about soccer!

Lucky for her, Robin was also awake at 11 p.m., and they were more than happy to take a break from their regularly scheduled homework backload to share their expertise. Lydia found one of her better shots of a girl running with the ball, and she directed the camera to her computer. “Who’s in this photo?”

“That’s Katherine Mercer, a sophomore,” Robin answered before snapping their fingers excitedly. “Oh wait, I remember that play. She dribbled through two defenders before crossing the ball into the box.”

“Sounds awesome,” Lydia nodded, though she didn’t understand a single word of it. She pulled up another window on her computer and set her wrists against her keyboard. “Would you mind repeating that for me, but much slower?”

Robin chuckled in response, but they complied nonetheless, repeating their earlier statement so Lydia could type it out.

“Ya know,” they said as Lydia finished up the caption. “I think my coach is warming up to you.”

“Oh, God.” Lydia could only imagine what the hell that meant, and she didn’t like any of the options. “What makes you think that?”

“After practice today, he pulled me aside and told me–“ They cleared their throat to make it low enough to emulate their coach. “– _‘Make sure that camera girl dresses up for the next away game’_.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “And that’s warming up to me, how?”

“Because he hasn’t told me to get a new photographer.”

“Ah, I see the logic now,” Lydia mused sarcastically. At long last, she finally reached the end of her latest camera roll, and it just so happened to be a photo of Robin. They were standing up straight with one foot forward and one arm pointed ahead, the gloved hand pointing a single finger. Their face gave the impression of shouting. “Alright, last picture,” Lydia told them.

Robin took no time at all to think of their caption. “Breaking news: local goalkeeper is incredibly good-looking.”

“Shut up!”

“I don’t hear you disagreeing.”

Lydia laughed and kept the camera facing the computer to hide the heat crawling up her neck. She dismissed their comment and pressed, “Come on, just tell me what you’re doing so I can go to bed.”

If ‘bed’ was code for ‘playing Fortnite with Beetlejuice’, then yes, Lydia was trying to go to _‘bed’_.

Robin tilted their head, their smirk firmly plastered on their features. “I’m commanding my backline.”

“Okay.” Lydia started typing again. “‘Senior captain Robin…” She paused. In three weeks of knowing them, there was one detail she never found out. “What’s your last name?”

“Robinson.”

“Your full name is Robin Robinson?” Lydia asked incredulously.

They sheepishly scratched the back of their beck “Yeah, my parents kinda screwed me over with my name.”

“I like it.” Lydia shrugged. “It’s strange.”

Robin snorted. “Thanks?” 

“That’s a compliment, I swear.”

“I’m sure.”

“Anyway,” Lydia drawled, bringing the attention back to the task at hand. “‘Senior captain Robin Robinson commands their backline’.” She glanced between her phone and the computer, waiting for a reaction. “Sound okay?”

“Yeah,” they replied, their smirk turning into a gracious smile. “Sounds amazing.”

“Finally!” Lydia flopped back into her desk chair and stared at the ceiling for a minute. The only sound breaking the silence of her room was the digital laughter from Lydia’s phone. She sat up and slumped forward when a question struck her mind. “How many games do you have this week?” 

“Two every week until the week after homecoming,” Robin answered, only for Lydia to groan in exasperation. “That just means we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“We see each other a lot now,” Lydia countered, a whine of protest playing at her voice. “I just saw you this morning.”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me.” Robin leaned forward in their chair. “You should really get that late slip signed.”

“What, seeing my face every morning is just so awful for you?” Lydia teased back.

Robin put their hands up defensively. “It’s worth asking since I’m talking to you while you’re at home.”

“Well, tough luck, Robin,” Lydia shot back. “Neither of my parents are home.”

“Lydia!” shouted none other than her father from downstairs. Lydia’s eyes went as wide as saucers, and Robin’s smirk slowly slid back onto their face. “Can you come down here please?!”

“Then who was that?” Robin inquired.

Lydia did the only thing she could think of: fake technical difficulties. “Csssssshhhh! We’re breaking up!” 

“Lydia I can see you–”

“Sorry, gotta go bye!” She poked the red ‘X’ on her phone, and Robin’s face disappeared. Barely a second later, her phone buzzed with a text for the very person she just hung up on:

_ Rude _

She snickered to herself and was about to type a reply when her father called her name again. She pocketed her phone and ran out the door, across the hall, and down the stairs all the way to the kitchen. There, her dad was standing at the counter, still dressed in his full business attire despite the late hour, eating leftover chicken out of a carry-out box. When he saw his daughter standing in the corridor, he set down his dinner and walked around the counter.

“Lydia, great, you’re here,” Charles said, folding his hands out in front of him. “I need to ask you a favor.”

Lydia crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “What is it?” 

“I just got off a video conference,” he began. “I’ve scheduled a meeting with the current owner of Bryer’s Ridge Country Club next month.” He paused, gauging Lydia’s nonexistent reaction. Then, he pointed two fingers at Lydia. “I need you to come with me.”

Lydia groaned, going cross-eyed with annoyance. “Dad, this isn’t another ‘perfect daughter, perfect man’ situation, is it?”

“No!” Charles immediately asserted. He was quick to assure her this wasn’t a repeat of the Dean Dinner. That didn’t end well for anyone. “No, in fact, I want you to be as authentically yourself as possible.”

That caught Lydia’s attention. “Seriously?”

“Yes, I need all of that...” He trailed off, making very general, broad gestures toward Lydia. “Alternative, youthful personality you have. The country club’s CEO told me the owner is on the younger side, and she’s not going to sell if she thinks I’m gonna keep the club exclusive to my generation.”

“Are you?” While Lydia was flattered to offer her ‘unique’ lifestyle, she didn’t want it to be a ploy.

“Of course not,” he insisted. “I’d actually love to expand the membership of the club, make it less exclusive.” He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I just don’t want the owner to think I’m another strict suit, and maybe you can be a reflection of that.”

“Hm.” Lydia tapped her chin in thought, making her dad wait a painfully long time. It was nothing new to her. Her father brought her along on real-estate meetings all the time when she was under 10 years old. This time, however, she wasn’t being asked to be the cute, innocent little daughter. She was being asked to be herself, which put an interesting spin on the opportunity. Lydia eventually ended her father’s torturous wait. “I suppose my services can be bought.”

“You already wanna bleed me dry, huh kiddo?” Charles chuckled before pulling out his wallet. “Alright, “I’ll give you twenty dollars for the day.”

“Thirty.”

”Ten.”

Lydia snatched the two tens before he could pull either of them away and left the kitchen. “Pleasure doing business with you, Charles.”

“Lydia," he warned.

“Father.” She poked her head back into view with a sweet smile.

After leaving the kitchen with twenty more dollars to her name, Lydia ascended the stairs and headed back to her room. When she opened the door, she could vaguely see a striped-suit sitting in her desk chair. She turned on the light, and much to her horror, she saw Beetlejuice scrolling through her photos, the most recent of which were of Robin.

“Who’s this breather you got so many pictures of?” Beetlejuice asked, in genuine curiosity. Then, he gasped like a schoolgirl in a soap opera. “Are you stalking someone?”

“No–“

“I’m so proud of you!” he exclaimed, floating over to Lydia to give her a big, unpleasant-smelling hug. She ducked under his arm and ran to her computer.

“No Beej, I’m not stalking anyone,” she declared, sitting in her chair while the demon hovered over her shoulder. “This is a friend.”

“Who is she?”

“They.”

“Who is they?”

“A friend.”

Beetlejuice narrowed his eyes at Lydia. He would never brag (he totally would), but he was Lydia’s best friend. She told him everything, and she often did because he can’t tell anyone living and he won’t tell any of the dead. If she refused to even tell him this kid’ name, then there was definitely some kind of crucial information she was withholding. He wanted to know, and he was going to figure it out.

Beetlejuice glanced between Lydia and the screen for a moment. Gears turned in his dusty, rotten brain, and he came to the only logical confusion he could ever think of.

“You think they’re hot, don’t you?”

Lydia whirled around to face him, aghast at the accusation. “No!” Her wide eyes focused on his hands, where he held her computer mouse. He must have grabbed it from her desk, and now he was scrolling through her pictures as he pleased.

“It’s okay if you do,’ Beetlejuice consoled, giving every picture of Robin an approving nod. “They are.”

“Beetlejuice, stop scrolling through my computer!” Lydia stood up on her chair and tried to grab at the demon, but he continued to float just out of her reach. All she could do was pray she didn’t take too many pictures of Robin.

In five games.

Where they played _every_ minute.

She was screwed.

“Woah, you got it bad!” Beetlejuice hollered as he spun upside-down to catch a better view of the screen. “Look at all of these pictures of they!”

“I’m the photographer for the girls’ soccer team,” Lydia stated with authority. “I have a lot of pictures of all of the players.”

“Wow, Lydia, that is so creepy,” he deadpanned, giving her an uncharacteristic expression of concern. It didn’t last long, for it melted into his usual look of excitement. “I’m even more proud of you!”

“Look.” Lydia finally reclaimed her mouse when Beetlejuice hovered just within her reach. “Do you wanna talk about what’s on my computer, or are you ready to have your ass kicked in a battle royale?”

And just like that, Beetlejuice’s attention was elsewhere. “In your dreams, Scarecrow!”

He flew out of her room and headed for the living room while Lydia went to turn off her computer. She paused, taking a moment to look at the picture currently displayed on the screen. She took it after the first game. The team won, and Lydia had meandered over to the bench while all of the players were getting ready to leave. Robin said something cheeky. Lydia didn’t exactly remember what it was, but she got flustered and opted to hold her camera up to hide her face. Robin smiled for the photo, that damn lopsided grin they always have on, and Lydia took the picture. In the photo, their normally tight-styled hair was loose and matted to their forehead, they had a long scratch on their arm, and one of their shoes was off, but it only added to the quirky nature of the photo.

_Okay fine,_ Lydia admitted to herself, hitting the off switch on her computer. _They’re a little adorable._

* * *

Because Lydia’s photos were the only thing keeping the _Shark Fin_ from publishing, the school paper made its way to every classroom in the building no earlier than Tuesday morning. Any pictures that didn’t make the paper ended up on the online gallery of the Southern High website. Lydia may not have scored punctuality points with the news team, she sure as hell scored points with the soccer team. 

“Hey Lydia, nice pics in the paper!” called out one of the seniors on the team as Lydia and Jasmine were walking to lunch. The former gave her a gracious smile for the split second that she was in view before immediately dropping it and leaning towards Jasmine.

“Who was that?”

“Becca McCormick.”

“Ah.” Lydia nodded her head at the name. Jasmine saw through her fake understanding.

“She’s never talked to you before, has she?”

“Not once.”

“Hey Lydia,” said another player on the team as she approached the two photographers. This one Lydia knew to be a freshman because she was the one on the team closest to her own height. The younger girl had her phone pulled out as she asked Lydia, “Can I get your insta real quick? The girls on the team wants to give you picture credit.”

“For real?” Lydia checked, and the girl nodded, offering her phone to Lydia. She didn't feel an overwhelming sense of honor or pride at the request. She was more stunned that this was the kind of thing people worried about. Going along with it, she took the phone and did as she was asked. She typed in the handle of her Instagram account–which she only ever used for photography–and gave the girl back her phone.

“Thanks!” cheered the freshman as she started down the hall again. “Great pictures by the way!”

Lydia waited for the girl to disappear around the corner before turning to Jasmine with a nervous smile. “What is happening?”

“Besides the fact that your pictures are getting amazing publicity,” Jasmine began, taking her bit of credit for making it all happen. “You, my friend, are being seen.”

That sounded weird to Lydia. How could she suddenly be seen if she herself didn’t feel unseen? She knows what invisible feels like, and she hadn’t felt like that in months. Being seen when you were already seen sounded more like being exposed.

Not even a second later, Lydia’s phone went off. And then it went off again. And again and again. She yanked her phone out of her bag and saw a bunch of notifications, ranging from ‘jsocc_25 tagged you in a photo’ to ‘no.mercer has requested to follow you’. Jasmine peered at her phone and pursed her lips together.

“Welcome to the world of high school glory.” Jasmine put a reassuring hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “You’ve just been surrounded by diamonds.”

“Jasmine–”

Lydia’s scolding was cut off by a new notification that read ‘robingk wants to send you a message’. Intrigued by the fact that they didn’t just text her, she accepted the follow request and opened the message, but it wasn’t a message. They tagged her in their Instagram story. It was one of the photos from the website, and Lydia was tagged at the bottom for photo credit.

“I would turn off my Instagram notifications if I were you,” Jasmine suggested with a sigh.

* * *

After school let out for the day, Lydia had a good couple of hours to kill before she had to be back at the field to shoot yet another soccer game–a home game, thankfully, so she didn’t have to worry about looking prim and proper for a sporting event. Delia picked her up from school, and the two rode home in comfortable silence. 

“Anything interesting happen at school today?” Delia asked her stepdaughter with a hopeful smile.

_ I gained about 200 followers on Instagram. _

“Not really,” Lydia replied. The digital commotion on her phone had calmed down for the most part. She wasn’t upset; she was just a little frazzled. Suddenly, it seemed like everyone in school knew her name. “The school paper printed my photos, so that was pretty cool.”

“Oooh,” Delia sang excitedly. “Can I see them?”

“Yeah, I’ll show ya when we get home.”

And she did. After they made it back to their house on a hill, Lydia pulled up the school website on Delia’s laptop and directed her to the _Shark Fin’s_ latest edition. Adam and Barbara heard them come in and joined them in the living room to see what Delia was eagerly scrolling through.

“I like it, I like it,” Delia mused from her place on the couch. The two ghosts were sitting on either side of her, and Lydia had taken a seat on the table with her feet on a chair. Delia clicked through the photos in the news gallery and continued to be amazed. “Wow, these are incredible.”

“You have a real talent for photography, Lydia,” Adam observed, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He looked at Lydia. “And everyone in the school sees this?”

“Everyone who reads the paper,” she answered, pessimistic about how many people read the hardcopy. She was trying to make it seem like less of a big deal lest her house start to resemble what her day at school looked like. “Or anyone who takes the time to look on the school website.”

”These are amazing,” Barbara added. “I wish you could’ve been around back when I did high school sports.”

“We get it, Barbara,” Adam droned with exaggerated boredom. “You were an athlete in high school.”

The three adults continued to marvel at Lydia’s work for a moment, leaving her to her own devices. Speaking of devices, she took the time to finally open her phone after silencing it after its minor explosion. There were a few neglected messages from Jasmine and other notifications from social media. What she didn’t expect to see was an idle text from Robin, though she was pleasantly surprised and swiped that open first.

_ I see no pictures of me with my tongue out. _

Lydia snorted to herself.

_ oh sorry i’ll send em right away _   
  


She did a quick google search and sent a picture of a giraffe with its tongue sticking out. She waited for some kind of witty reply or, even better, some defensive retort, but all she got was another picture. This one was of a lion sticking its tongue out.

_ Lydia: _

_ u really like lions huh _

_ Robin: _

_ They’re big and scary. But also fluffy. _

Lydia could hear that response in Robin’s voice, starting out all cool and tough and ending on a more awkward, sheepish tone. She wanted to poke at them a little more.

_ Lydia: _

_ and that’s supposed to resemble u? ur not THAT big _

_ Robin: _

_ I’m bigger than you _

_ Lydia: _

_ not an accomplishment, asshole _

Lydia bit her lip to suppress a groan of annoyance. She knew it, they knew it, _everyone_ knew it! Still, she couldn't get side-tracked. She had more points to prove wrong.

_ Lydia: _

_ ur also not very scary _

_ Robin: _

_ You’ve never seen me mad _

_ Lydia: _

_ ooh now i cant wait to see it _

_ Robin: _

_ I hope you never do _

_ Lydia: _

_ even if i say please? _

They didn’t respond for a while, and Lydia got a little worried. She quickly changed the topic.

_ Lydia: _

_ how about fluffy? _

_ Robin: _

_ Have you seen my hair? _

_ Lydia: _

_ yea its short and stiff _

_ Robin: _

_ I’m offended. _

_ Lydia: _

_ and im proud to say ur not a lion _

_ Robin: _

_ Grrr _

_ Lydia: _

_ giraffes dont growl _

“Lydia!”

The girl in question jumped, startled by the raised voice of her stepmom. It wasn’t harsh, but it was surprising. 

“Sorry,” Lydia quickly apologized, putting her phone down. She seemed to realize Delia had been calling her name for a while. “I was just texting someone about the game tonight.”

“And while that’s great.” Delia’s voice alluded to a less positive extension. “There is something serious I want to talk to you about.”

Lydia furrowed her brow and rotated slightly on the table to face Delia. The latter stood up from the couch, smoothing down the creases of her dress as she did, and walked over to Lydia. Delia took up a firm expression, one of a stern mother.

”Now Lydia, while I am excited for you,” she began in the same manner as she had begun her last statement. “I am a bit concerned about how much time you are spending on this photojournalism project.”

“Why?” Lydia countered, a hint of disbelief in her tone. She glanced at the Maitlands over Delia’s shoulder. “I thought you all wanted me to get more involved in my school.”

“Yes, but–well, you see my friend on the PTA, Jessica.” Lydia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had held her tongue about the whole PTA thing thus far, but it did bug her that Delia joined a league of high-society moms who want a say in their children’s high school experience. “She told me about this online parent portal thing that allows me to see your grades…”

“Yeah, and?” Lydia propped her elbow on her knee and rested her chin in her palm.

Delia took on a chastising tone. “Lydia, it’s only the fourth week of the school year, and you’re already failing biology.”

Lydia’s eyes went wide. Adam and Barbara stopped looking at Delia’s laptop to fix stern, parental glares on Lydia. 

_ Shit. _

“Oh.” Lydia suddenly found her hands a more interesting thing to look at. She chanced a peek at the others. “You saw that.”

“I did,” Delia affirmed. “And while I’m very proud of your work with photography, and it’s great that you’re getting more involved–”

“Please don’t tell me you’re making me quit photography,” Lydia whined, standing up from the table. “It’s the best part of my junior year thus far.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything like that,” Delia rebuffed the accusation. “I was just going to say you have to work on your time management a little.”

Lydia let out a deep sigh of relief. “Oh thank God.”

“And make room for a tutor.”

“A tutor?!” Lydia stammered, going right back into panic mode. “No, Delia, please no.” She looked to the Maitlands with pleading eyes. “Help me out here, guys.”

“Sorry Lydia, we’re with Delia on this one,” Barbara said as she stood from the couch to join Delia. “I had some trouble juggling sports and classes in high school, so I got a tutor, and it saved my life.”

“That tutor was me,” Adam interjected.

“Beside the point.” Barbara gave Lydia an encouraging expression. “This could be really good for you.”

Lydia groaned as both of her mother-figures put their hands on their hips and shared a satisfied glance. They both seemed to equate Lydia’s resistance with doing exactly the right thing.

“Whine all you want, I’ve already found a tutor for you,” Delia divulged before walking over to the family calendar hanging on the wall. Lydia grumbled to herself, unable to do anything about the decision at hand. “Jessica told me her daughter, Stephanie, passed biology with flying colors and would be more than happy to tutor you.”

_Great_ , Lydia thought with a roll of her eyes. _I’m gonna be tutored by a PTA child-prodigy._

“Cheer up kiddo,” Adam consoled a very distraught looking Lydia. “Maybe you can make a new friend.”

Lydia already made a new friend this year. She reached her quota. Not only that, but she also didn’t see herself getting along with whoever this ‘Stephanie’ was.

“Whether you like it or not, I scheduled the tutor for tomorrow night,” Delia announced, pointing to the calendar. Lydia whipped around with a bewildered expression. How was this all happening so quickly? Delia held up an admonishing finger. “Remember Lydia, an investment in knowledge pays the best interest.”

Lydia gave her an unimpressed look. “Was that Otho?”

“Benjamin Franklin,” Delia corrected, her expression turning sour. “I’m not quoting that fraud anymore.”

* * *

Wednesday afternoon came a lot sooner than Lydia would have preferred. The girls’ soccer team had a convincing win Tuesday night, followed by a relatively easy school day, and it all ended way too soon. For the first time in her life, Lydia actually wanted classes to be longer.

Alas, school let out at 2:10 as per usual, photography club went until 4, and then Delia picked her up to drive her home. Had it not been for Delia’s threat to come inside and drag her out herself, Lydia would’ve hidden behind Kim’s door #3.

However, Lydia had to face the music. The tutor would be at her house at 7pm, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She even tried to get Beetlejuice to cause some chaos and wreck the study session, but the Maitlands busted her in the act. There was no getting out of it.

“Now Lydia,” Delia said to Lydia, who was sitting at the dining room table after dinner had been cleared. “Remember that this is supposed to help you academically. I’m not asking you to be best friends with your tutor, but please be nice to her.”

“I promise I’ll be nice.” Lydia stood up from her seat and held her chin thoughtfully between her thumb and forefinger. “D’ya think Stephanie likes knock-knock jokes?”

“No!” Delia nearly hollered, a sense of panic in her voice that gave Lydia a sick feeling of satisfaction. “No knock-knock jokes,” she added in a much calmer, more collected tone as she fixed a few stray strands of her hair. A second later, the doorbell rang. “Oh! She’s here!” Delia squealed in delight, her heels clicking obnoxiously against the wooden floor. When she got to the door, she turned back to Lydia. “Remember, be friendly.”

“I know, I know.” Lydia hid behind a wall, peeking ever so slightly so she could see this ‘Stephanie’ before she saw her. She wanted to make a judgment on her before she could even get a glance at Lydia

”Don’t worry Lydia.” The girl nearly jumped at Adam’s whisper. “We’ll be upstairs the entire time in case you need a quick study break.”

Barbara nodded alongside him. ”Nothing a little broken jug in the attic won’t fix?”

Lydia gave them a critical look, suspicious about this weird change of face. “I thought you guys were on Delia’s side about this.”

“We are,” Adam reiterated. “But we also wanna make sure you’re not too stressed. Study breaks are important.”

“Are they?” Barbara questioned his logic. “How come we never took any when you were my tutor?”

“We did, Barbara,” he reminded her through gritted teeth. Barbara didn’t look convinced. Adam glanced awkwardly between Lydia and Barbara before covering the former's ears with his hands. “Don’t make me remind you, there’s a small child with us.”

But Adam forgot to make his hands solid, so his censoring failed. “I can hear you,” Lydia stated flatly.

Before the trio could dive further into that mess, Lydia heard the door creaking open and Delia greeting their visitor.

“Hi, um,” said the visitor, and Lydia’s heart dropped into her stomach at the known voice. “I’m sorry, I think I’m at the wrong house.”

“You might,” Delia replied. Lydia slowly peered around the wall once more, and she couldn’t believe who she saw. “I’m actually waiting for my daughter’s tutor, Stephanie Robinson.”

It was _Robin_. 

Her tutor was _Robin_.

_Stephanie_ Robinson…was _Robin_. 

Lydia slapped a hand over her mouth to hide her gasp.

“Oh, then I am at the right house.” Robin flashed Delia their winning smile and extended their hand to her with a cordial introduction. “Hi, Stephanie Robinson, nice to meet you.” 

“Delia Deetz, lovely to meet you as well.” Delia took their hand, shook twice, and released it before opening the door wider for them. “Come right in.”

Robin’s brow raised in surprise. “Deetz?” they stammered, and that’s when Lydia regained her composure and stepped out into the hall. Robin’s eyes went from Delia to Lydia, and they let out a small chuckle of amazement. “Hey there.”

“Hello Robin,” Lydia greeted them, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall in a sly manner.

Delia curiously looked between the two teens. “You two know each other?”

Lydia hitched her chin towards her new ‘tutor’. “Robin’s on the soccer team.”

“Robin?” Delia repeated with questioning inflection, looking to Robin for an explanation.

“Uh yeah.” Robin shoved their hands into their jean pockets as they stepped inside. “I generally go by Robin at school, but–”

“Oh sweetie, why didn’t you say so?” Delia smiled warmly, which seemed to break through Robin’s uncharacteristically defensive posture. “I can be hip. I can be cool.” Then, she did the unthinkable: she dabbed.

Lydia cringed while she walked over to stand next to Robin. “Delia, please stop,” she begged, pain evident in her voice.

Delia gave her stepdaughter an endearing glare before turning her attention back to Robin. “Aside from that, I’m a life coach,” she divulged, and Robin nodded along. Lydia only wished Delia would stop talking so as not to embarrass her in front of the one friend she made this year. However, Delia kept going. “And I’ve learned that you should always know what a person prefers to be called–Oh! Which reminds me.” Delia cleared her throat and put on a frighteningly serious face. Lydia seriously considered pushing Robin out and slamming the door, but then Delia surprised her. “What are your preferred pronouns?”

The question didn’t even sound like the question. It was Delia-fied, meaning she over-pronounced the wrong syllables, rolled all of the R’s, and inflected her voice with no consistency whatsoever. Despite all of that, Lydia was impressed. She hadn’t expected Delia to be that aware.

“Uh…” Robin seemed stunned, too. So much so that they hesitated, and Lydia had to elbow them in the ribs to break them out of their haze. “Erm, they/them, thanks for asking.”

Delia nodded in understanding, and Lydia made a mental note to never underestimate her stepmother again. “Well, I’ll leave you two to your studying,” Delia announced as she headed for the stairs. “Robin, I have vegan muffins in the oven if you’re hungry.”

“Um, thanks,” Robin stuttered, still astonished by their interaction with Delia. After the older woman disappeared up the stairs, Robin stepped further into the house while Lydia closed the door behind them. “Well,” they mumbled. “That was…”

“Embarrassing,” Lydia finished.

“I was gonna say refreshing,” they corrected, and Lydia looked at them curiously. Robin cleared their throat. “Whether it’s at school or at work or anywhere else um…” They paused, thinking of the right way to articulate their thoughts. “People don’t always know enough about the world to ask.” They flicked their head up towards where Delia had just left. “Your mom’s pretty cool.”

Lydia shrugged, suppressing the instinct to correct Robin and say ‘stepmom’. She still wasn’t sure she was ready to share that tragic truth of her life. For now, she’d just celebrate Delia being the mom she needed in that moment. “I guess she is,” Lydia agreed.

Lydia led Robin into the dining room, and the latter set down their bag and draped their trademark jacket on a chair. Lydia pursed her lips, one question scratching at her brain.

“So…” she drawled, putting her hands on the back of her chair. “Stephanie Robinson.”

“Oh my God,” Robin laughed, reacting to the name like a joke. “I did say my parents screwed me over with my name.”

Lydia chuckled. She did recall them saying that. She also recalled the fact that they did not confirm nor deny that their full name was Robin Robinson.

“Look, no offense to all the Stephanies in the world,” they continued. “I’m sure they’re all beautiful, bright women with great personalities.” They took a step away from the table and held out their arms, making a broad gesture to themselves. “But do I look like a Stephanie to you?”

The short answer was no. The long answer would be a full break down of, in the most shallow sense, their appearance. A white shirt under an open blue flannel, loose-fitting jeans, and a face that Lydia knew from her own experience gave off a masculine impression to anyone who first meets them.

“No.” Lydia went with the short answer. Then, she reached forward and gave the collar of their flannel a slight tug to make it even with the other. “You look like Robin.”

The grin that spread across Robin’s face could have lit a darkroom. “Thank you.” Lydia’s hand lingered a little longer than it should have, but she eventually pulled her hand back as Robin sucked in a deep breath. “So, biology,” they stated. Lydia winced, earning a chuckle from them. “Ready to get to work?”

Lydia forced a smile, but she definitely looked like she was suffering. “About as ready as I’ll ever be.”

* * *

Lydia and Robine studied for a solid hour, which was a lot easier than Lydia thought it would be. She still struggled with biology. She couldn't deny that, but Robin was a good tutor. The textbook was no page-turner, but Robin had a way of explaining concepts that actually made them interesting. They told it like a story, and it managed to hold Lydia’s attention for the whole hour. However, Lydia could only focus for so long, and she was about to send a message up to the Maitlands and have them smash something when Robin suggested they take a break. To add to the perfect timing, Delia’s muffins had just cooled off.

“Holy crap,” Robin jabbered through a mouthful of muffin. They swallowed their bite before saying in genuine surprise, “I’m no vegan, but these are pretty damn good.”

“You weren’t here for the first few batches,” Lydia chided, enjoying her own muffin but also wincing at the memory of tasting Delia’s test batches over the summer. 

Robin stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter to grab another muffin. “I’ll be honest,” they began after a moment of silence. “I was almost certain your mom sent me the wrong address.”

Lydia hung her elbows over the back of her chair to face them. “How come?”

“Well, I used to be a girl scout,” they started to explain, and Lydia froze. “I’m still on the email list, and I’m pretty sure this house was flagged as ‘Do Not Sell’.”

“Huh.” Lydia slapped on the best face of confusion she could muster and laughed nervously. “That’s so weird.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed, not noticing Lydia’s suspicious behavior. “I thought maybe it had something to do with, well–” They cut off, and Lydia speculated on what they would say next. “You know what happened to the couple that lived here before you, right?”

As if on cue, Barbara and Adam poked their heads into the room at that exact instant. Lydia stood up a little too abruptly, but the Maitlands gave her a warning glance. While Lydia could see the recently deceased at any moment, other members of the household could only see them when they made themselves visible. Lydia assumed by the Maitlands’ expressions that they were currently invisible and she should be careful not to blow their cover. So, Lydia meandered over to the counter and stood a little ways away from Robin. “I’ve heard rumors,” she responded coolly.

“Apparently, they passed away at the same time, both still in this house,” Robin recounted, and Lydia nodded along like this was the first time she heard the real story. She never thought about how the public perceived the death of the Maitlands, probably because they weren’t really gone to her. “A lot of people think this house is haunted.”

Lydia glanced nervously at the Maitlands out of the corner of her eye. The ghostly couple shared a panicked look, and Lydia had the same sentiment. If word got out that this house was really haunted, it could be a Maxie Dean situation all over again.

“Pfffffttt, haunted?” Lydia snorted incredulously, smacking Robin’s arm in a joking manner. “That’s ridiculous! I think I would know if my own house is haunted.”

“You’re right,” Robin agreed right away, and the Maitlands both let out a sigh of relief before disappearing down the hall. It was a good thing Robin wasn’t hard too convince. In fact, they seemed elated. “God, if your house was haunted, you might need to find a new tutor.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little ghost.” Lydia inquired in utter disbelief.

Robin sighed, looking just a little abashed. “Let’s just say I’ve never been very good with haunted houses.”

Lydia stood up a little straighter, that insatiable curiosity coming full force. “Now this is a story I wanna hear.”

Robin knit their brows together, silently pleading they do not relive this story. Lydia simply jumped onto the counter and leaned forward, eagerly awaiting the tale. Robin set their muffin down, took in a deep breath, and leaned back against the counter.

“When I was, like, nine years old,” they began, looking up as though the memory were just above their eye-line. “My family went to the beach for a week, and one night my sister Laurel dragged me into the haunted house ride on the boardwalk.”

They paused, biting their lip in an embarrassed smile. Lydia’s legs swung back and forth in anticipation. Part of her wanted to hear a good scare, try and sap an adrenaline rush from whatever made Robin so mortified of haunted houses.

“Come on, what happened?” Lydia urged.

“I closed my eyes the entire time,” Robin revealed, and Lydia’s high expectations were immediately crushed. “And even then, I still cried when we got off the ride.”

Lydia’s jaw dropped open. Then, she pushed herself off the counter and stepped up to Robin’s side. They crossed their arms, waiting for her reaction, and boy did it come.

“You’re a wimp!” she exclaimed like it was an astonishing discovery, jabbing them in the side.

Robin jabbed her right back. “I’m not a wimp!” they shot back, though a laugh broke into their voice. 

“You totally are!” Lydia giggled, still unable to believe one of Southern High’s coveted jocks was a scaredy-cat. The light punches continued, but like the nudges on the staircase, Robin barely looked bothered. “‘Big and scary’, my ass!”

“Still bigger than you,” they jeered, turning so their back was facing Lydia. Like any comment about her size, it made Lydia’s face screw up in annoyance, but she saw a challenge more than she saw animosity. So, she did what any small person would do to a bigger person: She jumped on their back.

But they barely stumbled! Their knees bent slightly to adapt to the change in weight, but their posture stayed upright and unchanged. Lydia’s arms dangling loosely around their neck was the only thing keeping her from falling, so when they turned all the way back around, Lydia struggled to stay aboard.

“Did a fly just land on my shoulder?” Robin mused curiously, making Lydia grumble in vexation.

“This fly will sting you.”

“Flies don’t sting,” Robin said matter-of-factly, looking at her out of the corner of their eye. “This is why you’re failing biology.”

“This fly stings,” Lydia retorted. She jutted out her lip and changed her voice to a high whine. “Hope it doesn’t make you cry.”

“I was nine!”

Lydia finally released her arms and landed on her feet. Robin turned to face her, and Lydia quirked a brow in skepticism. She found it hard to believe the now multiple stories she’d heard about the acclaimed goalkeeper in front of her having the lacrimal dexterity of a leaky fire hydrant as a child. “You’re still a bigger crybaby than I ever imagined.”

“I’m not a crybaby,” they asserted calmly with a shrug. “I like to think I just feel things very powerfully.”

Lydia tilted her head at their more serious observation. “Is that why you don’t want me to see you mad?”

“One of the reasons,” they divulged. “But I don’t get angry very often.”

“I thought I was gonna get pretty close with the ‘crybaby’ thing,” Lydia boasted, making Robin shake their head in a light laugh. Then, they narrowed their eyes at Lydia, one side of their mouth curling into a smirk.

“I don’t think I could ever be mad at you, Lydia,” they said in a low, sincere tone. Lydia didn’t know whether it was the way they said it or the expression they bore that caused an odd sensation to tug at her chest again, but it was still far from unpleasant. The feeling spread up her neck and to her cheeks, inclining her to look down at the floor. 

There was a beat of awkward silence before Robin coughed and looked down at their watch. “Well, er, I better be on my way.” They walked back into the dining room and began to pack their things back into their bag. Lydia followed them as they prattled on. “You can just text me when you wanna study next. Oh, and tell your parents not to worry about payment, I get service hours for this.”

Lydia nodded and set her hands on her chair again while they buckled the cross-strap of their backpack across their chest. 

“So I’m a service project?” Lydia teased.

Robin hurried to object. “No, that’s not what I–”

“Calm down, it’s just a joke.” She placed a reassuring hand on their arm and could feel their muscles relax under the letterman sleeves. It wasn’t until then that Lydia realized she was getting a closer glimpse at the inner workings of Robin’s mind, something even Jasmine claimed not to understand. “You’re a little more high strung than you let people think,” she concluded with a kind of soft fascination.

They paused in contemplation, but in the end, they chose to trust her. “You caught me,” they chuckled half-heartedly. “I can’t always afford to be laid back.”

That much should have been expected. According to Jasmine, their accolade list probably broke the floor. Full-time student, specialized athlete, tutor, and Lydia remembered them mentioning something about a job? And yet they kept up the most put-together exterior at school, and that’s why they fit right in with the rest of–as Jasmine so crudely put it–the diamonds.

_The rest of the diamonds don’t see a jack._ Jasmine’s voice suddenly reverberated in the back of Lydia’s mind. She could only wonder how lonely that was. No wonder they kept themself so busy.

“Well, if you ever wanna talk,” Lydia began as she walked them to the door. Robin glanced at her over their shoulder. “You can always come to me,” she offered with a shrug. She didn’t make the suggestion out of pity or to prove a point to Jasmine. She made it because she wasn't going to miss out on the witty banter and crooked grins when the rest of the world chose to.

Robin snorted. “Are you gonna life coach me like your mom?” Just like that, they were trying to regain their nonchalant exterior and hide behind wit, but Lydia wasn’t tricked very easily. She’s outsmarted demons.

“Probably not,” Lydia confessed. “But I’m a good listener.”

“I came here to help you, remember?” Robin pointed out, trying again with the wit.

But Lydia was just as witty. “Sure, but the study session’s over.”

Robin smirked, finding themself outdone by Lydia. Before they could say anything else, their phone went off.

“That’s my mom, I should really get going,” they said after checking their phone. They shoved it back into their pocket and pulled the door open. “Tell your mom I really liked the muffins and, uh–” They stopped, taking a second to give Lydia a warm farewell. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

With that, they head out, leaving Lydia to lean against the doorway and watch them walk back to their black pick-up in the driveway. Once they hopped in, the engine roared to life, and they gave her one last mini salute before backing out and driving off into the night. Without Lydia’s knowing, she herself had a gentle smile the whole time.

* * *

Meanwhile, the Maitlands observed the interaction through the ceiling. They found out early on that if they concentration their head into the ceiling lights, it was like watching the room as a high definition, 360º movie. They weren’t being creepy. They’d just been cooped up in the house long enough to crave any kind of new interaction, even if it wasn’t their own. After tooning out of their irregularly scheduled program, the couple remained seated on the floor in the attic. Barbara was leaning against Adam with her head on his shoulder, and Adam’s arm was braced on the floor behind her.

“Does Lydia’s new athlete friend remind you of anyone?” Barbara asked her husband. The question was pointed, hinting that the answer should be obvious.

“They sure do,” Adam replied, knowing exactly who Barbara was referring to. However, it was not herself. “God, I hated being that stressed,” he lamented.

“It worried me sometimes,” Barbara confessed with a look of concern before poking him in the side. “Lucky for you, I was there to make life interesting.”

“Hey, don’t take all the credit.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek, coaxing a giggle out of his wife. “I wasn’t just there to help you with grades. I don’t recall a single person who could make you laugh the way I did.”

Barbara nodded in agreement. “Your jokes were significantly better back then, I’ll give you that.” She gazed up at him with endearing eyes. “Alright, it’s settled. We helped each other.”

“That we did,” Adam affirmed. Then, he hitched his chin towards the floor where they were just viewing their nightly entertainment. “What’s your call on this kid?”

Barbara scrunched her face in thought, thinking it over like a movie prediction before walking into a theatre. “I think they’ll be good for Lydia. Certainly different from any of the other friends she’s brought home.”

“I was actually thinking the other way around,” Adam politely countered. “This kid is living at a million miles an hour, and I feel like Lydia’s become pretty comfortable living for the present.” He nodded his head to emphasize a realization. “Maybe she got that from her mother.”

“She definitely didn’t get it from her father.”

“That’s for certain.”

The couple laughed together, rocking back and forth comfortably. Then, Adam summed up their observations. 

“I guess it’s settled again. Those two are gonna be good for each other.”

At that moment, the door to the attic swung open, and Lydia stepped through. The first thing she noticed was that her favorite ghostly couple was sitting on the floor.

“What are you guys up to?” she inquired, closing the door behind her.

“Just talking.” Barbara shrugged. “Did your tutor leave already?”

“Yeah, they just left.” Lydia jabbed a thumb over her shoulder before crossing the room to a dusty nightstand. Sitting idly on the nightstand was her favorite polaroid camera, which she picked up and hung around her neck. “What’re you guys talking about?”

The couple shared an equally incriminating look that–much to their luck–Lydia didn’t see. She was busy fiddling with her camera when her phone buzzed. She pulled out the device, and the Maitlands didn’t miss the miniature smile that appeared on her face.

“Oh, nothing you need to worry about,” Adam answered.


	5. Alone Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia takes a walk through the lion's den–or Shark Pit, rather–and discovers that high school popularity is more of a burden than the glorified shit-show you see on tv. But what will it take to lead Robin out of the cave?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for a whole lot of OC context and a lot more in-depth analysis of the bizarre ins and outs of high school popularity (It's actually a thing, and it blew my mind to watch it irl). Anyway, I hope everyone is safe and healthy! Enjoy Chappy 5! - Jojo, who accidentally went viral on tik tok, oh my lord
> 
> P.S. Any Fall Out Boy Lovers out there? you're gonna love the ending

As soon as the lunch bell rang, the halls flooded with ravenous teens. They were ready to enjoy their 30 minutes of free time. It was the only time of day where they were guaranteed to see their friends, for classes didn’t offer the same social security. Not to mention most high school students traded breakfast for an extra ten minutes of sleep, so plenty of kids were headed towards their first meal of the day. Put all of those factors together, and lunchtime often looked like the legions of Sparta running into battle.

Speaking of Sparta...

“Alright troops!” Jasmine proclaimed, slamming her hands on the lunch table. Sitting at that table were the essential parties of the photography club, Lydia included. Jasmine looked each and every one of them in the eye with a menacing amount of ambition. “It’s that time of the year again.”

“Basketball preseason!” exclaimed Brady excitedly, pumping his fist in the air. Unfortunately for him, he was off by about a month. 

“No, Brady.” Jasmine shook her head, unimpressed.

Another guy, Zachary, who was lanky with blond hair, pitched, “Time to start college applications?”

“No.” Jasmine’s immediate denial quickly dissipated into sheepish thought. “Well, actually yeah, I should really get on that.”

“Time for grades to start tanking,” said Adrienne, a dark-haired senior who sat across from Lydia.

Jasmine placed her palms together and directed her fingertips in Adrienne’s direction. “Adri, that might just be you.” Adrienne shrugged nonchalantly, and Jasmine turned to Lydia with a desperate expression. “Please save me.”

Lydia put her hands up defensively, a half-eaten carrot in one of them. “Hey, this time last year, I was still in New York.” 

And her mom was still alive, but Lydia pushed that thought aside for now.

“You guys!” Jasmine groaned in exasperation. “It’s homecoming.” 

Her exciting reveal was met with less-than-enthusiastic cheers from her fellow photographers. Jamie even threw his face onto his arms, leaving only his puffy orange hair poking out.

Despite her rather underwhelming response, Jasmine proceeded with her normal amount of energy. “It’s the first dance of my last year, and they couldn’t have picked a more perfect theme.” She clasped her hands together in delight as she announced, _“Dancing Through the Decades."_

Silence. Save for the busy noise of the cafeteria, she was met with silence, until Adrienne voiced what they were all thinking. “Anybody else lost?”

The rest of the table erupted in chuckles, both at Jasmine’s cartoon-level of thrill and Adrienne’s utterly clueless expression that was half-hidden behind an old baseball hat. Even Lydia snickered quietly at Jasmine’s side. She looked up her best friend to see her roll her eyes and put on a brave smile.

“Laugh all you want,” Jasmine went on. “But as the unelected president of the photography club, I’ve already picked our float theme for the parade and the dance which by the way–” She added urgency to her voice. “Is in two weeks!”

Brady waved his hand dismissively. ”Relax Jazz, I’m sure we’ll get the float done in time.”

“Before we can have the float, we need a truck for said float,” Jasmine reminded him. “And after the Fisher twins graduated last year, taking their Jeep with them, we have no wheels for the parade.” She looked around at her crew, who now all bore slightly panicked expressions. “Anybody know someone with a pick-up?”

Lydia took a pause. An image of a black pick-up came to her mind. She had seen a pick-up lately, in her own driveway. Every Wednesday night for the last couple of weeks. Before and after _tutoring._

When no one else seemed to be making any gestures beyond those of deep brainstorming, Lydia swallowed hard and raised her hand.

Jasmine appeared surprised. “Lydia?”

Lydia nodded, her face scrunched up since she was skeptical of Jasmine’s reaction. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Girl, if you can get us a pick-up for the parade, I don't care if you killed the owner to get it.” Jasmine finally sat down, a load taken off her shoulders by one of the problems potentially being solved. Then, she gave Lydia a pointed look. “But please don’t.”

They all laughed, and Lydia grinned deviously to feed the joke. Once again, they jest at the idea that quiet little Lydia would kill someone, and once again, no one knows she actually _has._

“Gimme a minute.” Lydia pushed herself up from the table, and her friends watched her go with curious expressions. What confused most of them is why Lydia was headed to the other side of the cafeteria, playfully dubbed the Shark Pit by the athletes that unofficially reigned over it. There, bitch braids and casually wielded lacrosse sticks were commonplace. The only photographer who really connected the dots of Lydia's intentions was Jasmine, who sighed in resignation. Lydia could handle herself.

As for Lydia, she was marching into what teens of weaker resolve might consider the ‘lion’s den’ of high school, but she wasn’t going to get eaten alive. In fact, a few girls she recognized as Robin’s teammates waved at her with enthusiastic grins. Lydia still felt uneasy under the new attention, but she took it with a cordial smile and moved on. She had a different lion to see.

Her feet took her to a far table where she saw a handful of letterman jackets peppered about the table. Lydia’s agenda only required her to talk to one, and that one just so happened to be sitting on the edge of the table. Lydia didn’t need to do much to make her presence known besides setting her hands on the table’s surface right in front of them.

“Hey.”

Robin looked up, and they smiled in curious surprise.

“Hey,” they greeted her while most of the table kept on with the conversation. A few, however, stopped to listen. “Whatcha up to?”

“I came to ask you a question about homecoming?” Lydia’s blunt statement caused all talk about Robin’s table to cease completely. Robin just gave her a semi-concerned, semi-confused look. At first, Lydia had no idea what the big deal was, but then she replayed her question in her head. “I meant the parade,” she clarified with a furrowed brow.

Robin nodded and breathed out an amused sigh in newfound understanding. Past that, her comment made some of the other kids at the table dismiss her entirely, but for the majority, they reacted like Lydia just made the funniest joke in the history of comedy.

“Ha!” One guy roared, slinging an arm around Robin’s shoulders. “Robinson just got swerved without even doing anything.”

While Robin went along with his comment, Lydia saw no reason to follow suit. She knew the guy. He was a larger fellow and a football player, according to his jacket. Lydia even recognized him from the assembly... 

...When she and Jasmine were playing their game.

“Raphael Simmons?” Lydia tilted her with a sly smirk. 

“Uh yeah?” Raphael replied, looking perplexed.

Lydia chuckled before raising her voice into a high, innocent pitch. “Speaking of not doing anything, have you gotten off the bench yet this season?”

Robin slapped a hand over their mouth to suppress a laugh. A number of people around the table choked on whatever food they were eating. Raphael suddenly looked much less eager to hassle Robin.

“On that note.” Robin stood up, addressing their tablemates. “I’ll be right back.” 

Lydia gave Raphael one last shit-eating grin for good measure before following Robin as they left the table. They led her to an empty lunch table and leaned against the edge, facing her with their hands folded in their lap. Not even a second passed before they broke into another wave of laughter.

“I can’t believe you said that.” They wiped a reflex tear from their eye, and while Lydia felt a little gratified, she wasn’t exactly merry about it. She was still peeved.

“He deserved it,” she asserted, crossing her arms over her chest. She glanced over at the table of Robin’s ‘friends’, who had all gone back to their normal conversation at a ridiculous volume. She felt Robin’s hand lightly touch her arm and turned her attention back to them.

“Ignore them, they’re all assholes,” they advised earnestly, sticking their hands into their jacket pockets. “So what’d you wanna ask?”

“Oh, right.” Lydia remembered the reason she came over in the first place. “Is anybody using your pick-up for the homecoming parade?”

Robin shrugged. “Not at the moment.”

“Is there any chance photography club can use it for a float?” Lydia ended her question with a hint of uncertainty, realizing the request might be a little far-fetched. “Fair warning, Jasmine might kill me if I turn up empty-handed.”

“Wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Robin joked. They took another moment to think the question over, nodding their head at the conclusion. “Yeah, I can talk to my dad about him driving the pick-up for your float.”

Lydia threw a thumb in the direction of her friends. “I’m sure one of us can drive it.”

“Uh, it’s a 20-year-old stick-shift,” they told her doubtfully. “I’m surprised he lets me drive it.”

“Wow.” Lydia gave them an impressed look. “They can drive stick, too. Maybe you are a catch.”

Robin chuckled bitterly at the tease. “Oh, so now my puns are acceptable.”

“It wasn’t a pun that time, so yes,”

“Alright then.” Robin accepted the challenge, standing up straight. “I’ll make sure I’m on my pun A-game at tutoring later.” That earned a remorseful groan from Lydia while they headed back to their table. “See you tonight.”

Lydia waved them farewell and walked back to her own table. There, her friends were waiting with bated breath.

“Good news,” she announced. “I got us a truck.”

“Perfect!” Jasmine cheered before clearing her throat with an air of importance. “Now, I’m going to tell you, my faithful worshipers–”

Brady scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jazz.”

“Shut it, Bradach, my mom knows your mom.” At the use of his full name and the mention of his mother, Brady immediately shut his mouth. Jasmine picked right back up where she left off. “Anyway, it is time for me to reveal what the photography club’s decade pitch will be.”

She made them sit in suspense, and even Lydia had to admit she was waiting in anticipation for their group theme. It decided what their float would look like and how they would dress at homecoming, the least formal of Southern High’s dances.

After a long wait, Jamie was the one to accost Jasmine. “Well, spit it out!”

Jasmine glanced around before she gave the word: 

“Roarin’ 20’s, Casino Style!”

They all stared at her with blank expressions until Zachary voiced his concern. “Is that even allowed?”

“Of course, it is,” Jasmine claimed. “I’m on the student government, and I say it’s allowed.” Then, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through what Lydia assumed as a long list of Jasmine’s creative chaos. She cleared her throat, sending her voice into one of authority. “Now, listen up for everyone’s color assignments. Remember, this is for the parade and the dance.”

From what Lydia’s heard, Jasmine picked their colors every homecoming. The seniors would always pick the club's mini-theme, but Jasmine had a creative eye that no one else could deny, nor did they want to. Sure, they were limited to what color they wore to homecoming and the style of the theme, but Jasmine never did them wrong. If anything, she saved them from having to think of a way to ‘complement their best features’ without straying too far from the collective group. Also, it was a way for them to feed Jasmine’s need for control, which needed to be let out every now and then.

“Brady.” The boy in question sat up straight. “You said your girlfriend’s dress is black and white, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Great, just match her and you’ll be ‘on a roll’.” Jasmine snorted in laughter at a joke that fell on deaf ears. She gathered herself with an awkward glance around. “I swear it’ll be funny once you see what I have in mind. Jamie?”

The red-head raised his hand. “Present.”

“Green with white accents,” Jasmine assigned with a warm, nurturing smile. “I’m sure you won’t let me down.”

Jamie nodded with excitement plain as day on his face. Based on what Lydia saw from Jamie’s family, the Doyles, last St. Patrick’s Day, it was safe to say Jamie had some green formal wear lying about.

Jasmine proceeded down her list. “Adrienne, I have blue as your primary color and white as your secondary.” She turned to the boy next to her. “Zachary, same colors but reversed.”

Zachary, struggling to suppress a giddy smile, leaned in towards a bored-looking Adrienne. “It’s almost like we’re matching, huh?” 

Adrienne didn’t even spare him a glance. “Totally, dude.”

It was almost painful to watch. Zachary was so awkward with his crush on her, and Adrienne was so oblivious to it. Lydia knew Jasmine was trying to nudge them in the right direction, but it was like watching paint dry

“Lastly, Lydia…” Jasmine looked to the girl beside her and gave her a once over. “Do I even need to say it?”

Lydia pumped a fist in the air. “Black it is!”

“Wonderful, now all we need is a red,” Jasmine remarked dejectedly. “So if anyone has any hoco-posals planned in the next two weeks, give me a heads up.”

“What about you, Jazz?” Adri flicked her eyebrows in suggestion. “Anybody you pining for this year?”

“Please, I don’t mess ‘round with any of these fools,” Jasmine retorted, and the two went into a discussion over the potential homecoming suitors their school had to offer.

Lydia stopped paying attention, though. Her mind was somewhere else in the cafeteria, where someone she knew was surrounded by diamonds who don’t see a jack. 

It puzzled her. _Why do they stick around them?_

Lucky for her, she had a plug for knowledge on popularity living right under her own roof!

Well..not really _‘living’_.

* * *

“Hey Barbara, you got a minute?” Lydia called out as soon as she walked into the attic immediately following dinner. What she didn’t expect to see was Barbara and Beetlejuice sitting at a table, each holding a hook shaped-needle attached to balls of yarn between them.

“No,” Beetlejuice grumbled, his face scrunched up in determination as his grubby hands worked the yarn around the needle. “She’s teaching me how to crochet.”

“Why?”

“I was bored.” He gave her a warning glare, daring her to make fun of him. “Very...very bored.”

Lydia put her hands up to show she meant no offense, and Beetlejuice went back to his new hobby. Despite his decision for her, Barbara set her needle down and turned to face Lydia.

“What’s on your mind, hun?”

Lydia sat down at the table and rested an elbow on the edge. “Who were your friends in high school?”

Barbara was taken aback by the question, which was rather sudden and out-of-nowhere. Still, she went down the list. “Well, besides Adam, I was friends with some of my teammates, a few other athletes, some kids in my classes…” She trailed off, finding that a sufficient summary.

Lydia pursed her lips together. “Would you have considered yourself popular?”

Barbara gave her a skeptical look, speaking very carefully. “I’d say a lot of people knew me, but it wasn’t on my priority list to be popular. It just wasn’t something I thought about.”

“Did you know anybody who did?”

“Yeah, I did,” Barbara said, taking on a tone of disillusionment. “Adam and I told you about Trevor, but there were a few girls on my teams who fell into the trap, acting like they were better than everyone else.” She let out a deep sigh. “I didn’t stay in contact with them much after high school.”

“What about your other friends?” Lydia kept up with her questions. “You’re not-popular friends.”

“I married one,” she teased with a wink.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Besides Adam.”

“I stayed in touch,” Barbara glowed warmly. “I came back from college to visit a few times, and then we were friends on Facebook before I, well...died.”

Lydia took in Barbara’s answer with a critical look. Barbara could see the gears turning in her brain, and she felt the need to question the odd queries. “Why do you ask?”

“I have a friend at school,” Lydia disclosed. “I don’t like their friends.”

“I have the same issue,” Beetlejuice interjected with a bright, fanged smile. “My plan: kill my friend’s friends.”

“Beetlejuice, we’ve been over this,” Barbara admonished the demon with exhaustion riddled in her voice “Just because Adam watched HGTV with Delia one time, that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to kill Delia.”

Beetlejuice’s face contorted in a frown. “You’re no fun, Babs.”

Barbara sighed, folding her hands in her lap. She looked back at Lydia. “Does your friend like their friends?”

Lydia thought about it, but she couldn’t actually come up with an answer. “That’s a really good question.” She stood up from her chair, a new sense of determination written on her face. Being the direct person she was, Lydia knew what her next course of action was. “I’ll ask them, thanks.” 

Then, she ran out the door. It was 6:45, after all. Her tutor would be arriving soon.

Unbeknownst to her, Barbara had a pretty good grasp on who Lydia had been talking about. Lydia only had a handful of friends, and there were only so many people who she exclusively referred to as ‘they’.

“Hey, Beetlejuice.” The demon paused in his crochet efforts to look up at Barbara. “Adam and I are running a bet. You wanna get in on the action?”

He flashed her a big, toothy grin. “Oh, Babs! You know I could never say no to that.”

* * *

Later that night, during what now became an unexpectedly enjoyable part of Lydia’s Wednesday nights, Lydia was reviewing her biology notes while Robin sat across from her. They were looking at their own computer, their brow furrowed in concentration and their chin propped up in the palm of their hand. This had become the norm for when their study session neared its end. Lydia would go over what they already studied to look for anything she needed further help with, and Robin would use the extra quiet time to get their own stuff done. Yet while Lydia was going over her notes, she kept glancing at Robin.

She couldn’t help but think about the people they sat with at lunch. They were a rowdy bunch, rather nosy, and a little crude with their jokes. Robin didn’t even look that invested until she showed up, and she’s only known them for a little over a month. Maybe it’s too shallow to base her opinion on one interaction, but she recognized some of the faces from her classes. They were generally the kind of kids she took great pains to ignore. 

Lydia’s line of thought was interrupted when Robin caught her lingering eye. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, uh,” Lydia stammered. She could say something, but who was she to do so? The junior they tutored in biology on Wednesday nights. 

_No, they’re my friend,_ she reminded herself, recalling the facade she’s managed to see through when so many others fell for it.

“Can I ask you something?” she blurted out.

“Sure.” Robin closed their laptop and leaned their elbows onto the table, their eyes set on Lydia’s notes. “What’re you struggling with?”

“It’s not about bio.” Lydia pushed her notes aside, and they arched an eyebrow in question. She looked up, trying to think of a good way to phrase her question. “Why do you hang out with…” She made a vague hand gesture while her face screwed up in disgust. “All _those_ people?”

_ Nailed it. _

“You mean like the guys at lunch?” Robin rolled their eyes. “I told you, don’t worry about them. They were just being assholes. It’s funny.” Lydia gave them a pointed look. Their nonchalant exterior faltered just slightly, and they added less convincingly, “...most of the time.”

“I may be overstepping my bounds–”

“You definitely are.” Robin cut Lydia off, and she was ready to let the matter drop completely until they leaned back in their chair and crossed their arms with a smirk. “But go for it,” they granted her.

Lydia took that liberty and spoke her mind. “It’s just you don’t strike me as the kinda person to fit in with the popular crowd.”

Robin glanced around in uncertainty. “Thanks?”

“Lemme try that again.” Lydia tried to think of what really set them apart. They didn’t talk to only one type of person. They didn’t gossip or obsess over social media. They took everything seriously, and their sense of humor didn’t revolve entirely around other people’s pitfalls. That’s more than Lydia could say for most of the other ‘diamonds’ she’s interacted with (and she hated to admit it, but Jasmine's title for them was catching on). She piled all that up as best she could in one sentence. “There’s a level of emotional maturity you have that the rest of them sorely lack.”

“You sure you’re not a life coach?” Robin teased, and Lydia grabbed a mint from a bowl in the center of the table and threw it at them. So much for taking everything seriously. But they did take it seriously, and they responded as such. “And I think what you just observed is the epidemic of high school popularity.”

“You sound like an expert on the subject.” Lydia’s curiosity was rekindled. “Do continue.”

“I’m supposed to be tutoring you in biology.”

“This is biology.” 

“Are you sure it’s not sociology?”

“No, it’s biology. Darwinism or something like that.”

“That’s survival of the fittest.”

“Close enough.”

Robin shook their head at Lydia’s stubbornness. Lydia simply waited patiently with her head set atop both of her palms. Robin eventually caved and cleared their throat like an old college professor beginning their lesson.

“Well, you mentioned ‘the popular crowd’, right?” Lydia nodded at the proposed query. “High school popularity is all about the right people talking about you in the wrong way.” 

“What’s the wrong way?”

“Who you’re dating, what parties you go to, what sports you play–it’s all the superficial stuff,” Robin said, making it all sound so tedious with a dismissive wave of their hand. “The right people talk about you, and then suddenly everyone is talking about you, and then everyone knows your name, and suddenly you're thrown into the rumor raffle.” 

“The...what?” Lydia didn’t know there was this much to know about popularity.

“I like to call it the rumor raffle,” Robin added proudly. “If people know your name but don’t know you, they can toss you under a bus of rumors and not feel guilty about it.”

Lydia was fascinated. Not by the idea of popularity, that was all pointless to her. What intrigued her was the way in which Robin explained it. They were probably the only well-known student at their school who could see through it all in such a critical view. The question now is: how did they do that?

“What about you?” Lydia hitched her chin at Robin. “Why are you separate from all that?”

“I thought you summed it up pretty well earlier,” Robin said with a nod, referring to Lydia’s comment about emotional maturity.

“Still, I wanna hear your take,” she insisted with a fond smile.

Robin pressed their lips into a firm line. “You're quite the prying mind, aren’t you Lydia Deetz?”

“Let’s just say curiosity runs in the family.” That’s what her father always told her, though he was never talking about his side. 

“Fair enough.” Robin took a deep breath and a moment to think it over. “As for me, I guess I’m just trying to be a friend to all.” They ended with uncertain inflection, but they added more surely, “Make sure if people feel the need to talk about me, it’s in the right way.”

Lydia tilted her head, another question burning in her mind. “If you’re busy being a friend to all, who’s going to be a friend to you?”

Robin opened their mouth to respond, but all that came out was a nervous laugh. Lydia didn’t mean to stump them, but she feared that’s exactly what she did.

“I never really thought of it like that before,” they divulged, looking down at their hands. “Honestly, I sorta lost all my closest friends when we came to high school.” Their expression went from reflective to ashamed. “Making a varsity sport your freshman year kinda forces you into a different crowd. After that, I just never connected with the people you see me with now.”

“Sounds lonely,” Lydia concluded.

“Well, only one more year, right?” They slapped on a smile, but Lydia knows what sad eyes look like better than anyone. “Get my diploma, get out of here, go to college, and repeat the process.”

Once again, Lydia saw them fold back under the objective point of view. It was that way of thinking that landed them in a friend group they can’t stand, and Lydia wasn’t going to let it continue. For whatever reason, call it protective instinct, she thought they deserved better.

“What about enjoying senior year?” Lydia put out. Jasmine preached it enough for her to know the gist of it. “Stress is off! Can’t you practically do whatever you want?” 

“Not that easy Lydia.” Of course, Robin was a very different person from Jasmine. “There’s always a bigger picture.”

“Well then, start small.” At Lydia’s suggestion, Robin looked disinterested but waited for any other great ideas. “What’re your plans for homecoming?”

“I’m the student MC,” they reminded her flatly. “I walk in the parade, I make an appearance before the football game, and I announce the homecoming court.”

Lydia shook her head, chuckling lightly to herself. “I meant the dance this time.”

Robin shrugged. “I was thinking of missing it this year. It’s the weekend before playoffs start, I’ll probably just take the night off.”

“Seriously?” Lydia felt disappointed. She thought a great big party designed for school spirit would be right up their alley, a student MC who's a 'friend to all'. “You’re not going at all?”

“It just doesn’t interest me this year.” They shook their head, chastising themself for entertaining the notion. “Why are you so concerned about what I’m doing for homecoming? I didn’t think you cared about that kinda thing.”

“I don’t,” Lydia asserted. They were getting defensive, which only made Lydia become guarded as well, but she knew that wouldn’t get either of them anywhere. “I just care a little about you.”

Her confession surprised herself, but it was true. It was the reason why Raphael’s backhand comment bugged her so much. It was why study sessions became less laborious. And it was the reason she wouldn’t get that damn late pass signed. 

The silence that followed was shaky, only intensified by the ominous ticking of the clock. Robin was staring at Lydia, a kind of registering wonder amidst their features. Lydia simply sat back in her chair, practically daring them to make any move against her at this point.”

“You continue to amaze me, Lydia,” they said calmly with a gracious grin, one that actually reached their eyes this time. “But don’t worry about me.”

They opened their laptop back up and went back to their own work, signaling the end of that conversation. Lydia took a deep, frustrated breath and pulled her biology notes back into view. _Maybe Jasmine is right,_ she thought. _Maybe getting close to Robin was a bad idea to begin with._

_“This is a bad idea!”_ shouted a faint memory in the back of her mind. _“No, I don’t wanna…”_

* * *

_ “But why do I have to stay here?” whined a five-year-old girl at the front door of her newest last-minute daycare. Barely reaching the waist of her mother, the tiny blonde tugged inquiringly on the black pant leg of one Emily Deetz. _

_ “Because Daddy’s on a business trip this weekend,” Emily explained delicately, kneeling down so she was at her daughter’s height. “And Mama got called into base.” _

_ Lydia’s cheeks puffed in defiance. “Tell ‘em I said no!” _

_ “That’s not quite how it works, sweetie.” Lydia turned her back to mom and crossed her arms stubbornly. She hated that answer. She hated how her mom got called into whatever ‘base’ was at random times, and she hated not knowing what it meant. She hated when her mom dressed in her ‘service dress blues’ when it wasn’t a dress NOR was it blue! It was a black suit! _

_ “But I promise I’ll pick you up as soon as I can,” Emily offered, coaxing Lydia to face her with a deft finger on her shoulder. The younger girl was struggling to keep a frown with her mom smiling at her. “And…I just might sneak a bit of ice cream out of the freezer for you.” _

_ Lydia’s disgruntled expression was immediately replaced with pure youthful excitement. “Really?!” _

_ “But don’t tell Daddy,” Emily hushed her, lowering her voice to a whisper. “It’ll be our little secret.” _

_ Lydia gasped, having the most brilliant idea. “Can we get ice cream now?” _

_ “No, you have to wait here until I come get you later.” Emily shook her head, more at her daughter’s lack of an attention span than at her insatiable sweet tooth. She wished Lydia would stay five forever. _

_ Lydia’s lower lip quivered as she looked at her feet. “But I’ll miss you.” _

_ “I’ll miss you too, little bird.” Emily pushed a blonde curl behind her daughter’s ear, finding it hard not to cave and just hide her daughter in a duffle bag so she could take her on base. However, her commanders might frown upon that disrespect to security. “Why don’t we find you a friend to keep you company while I’m gone,” she suggested, looking around the room. There were some kids rough-housing with the stuffed animals, a few girls playing house off to the side, and a small boy reading all alone in the book corner. Emily knew where her daughter needed to go.  _

_ “What about that little boy over there?” She pointed to the corner. _

_ Lydia gave the boy a single glance and gave her mother the same answer she always gave. “No!” _

_ “He likes to read just like you, why don’t you go read with him?” _

_ “No, Mama.” _

_ “Why not?” _

_ “No one else is sitting with him!” _

_ “Great, then you’ll be the first.” That was the thing with Emily. When people told her ‘don’t do this, no one else is’, it only gave her even more or a reason to do it. So, she grabbed her daughter’s hand and started walking towards the boy in the corner. _

_ “Wait, Mama!” Lydia squeaked, digging her heels into the ground. “This is a bad idea!” _

_ “Come on, just say hi.” _

_ “No, I don’t wanna.” _

_ “Fine, I’ll do it.” Emily released her hand so she could lace her own fingers together and crack her knuckles. “I’m a pro at saying hi.”  _

_ Lydia, while free to run and get away from her crazy mom, would never dream of leaving her side in a new environment. Instead, she opted to hide behind her mother while the latter crouched down next to the reading boy. _

_ “Hey bud,” she greeted the kid, making him look up at her in interest. “What’s your name.” _

_ “Isaiah,” he responded. _

_ “Nice to meet you, Isaiah. I’m Emily, and this…” She turned around to give view to her timid daughter. “...is Lydia.” _

_ Isaiah waved at her. “Hi, Lydia.” _

_ Lydia paused, shyly folding her hands behind her back. “...Hi.” Then, her eyes narrowed at the book in his hands. “What’re you reading?” _

_ “Just a comic book.” He showed her the colorful pages of action and cacophonous words being thrown across the panels. _

_ Lydia looked to her mother as if asking silently for permission, and Emily responded with an encouraging nod in Isaiah’s direction. “Can I read with you?” Lydia asked quietly. _

_ Isaiah shrugged. “Sure.” _

_ Lydia flashed her mother a toothy smile, and then she sat down next to her new friend. Isaiah adjusted the book so Lydia could also see it. Emily watched on with a fond grin, proud of her little girl.  _

_ “I’ll see you later tonight,” Emily whispered, planting a quick kiss on her daughter’s head. “Remember, ice cream.” _

_ Lydia reached an arm out in a clumsy attempt at a hug. “Love you, Mama.” _

_ “I love you, too, little bird.” _

* * *

Lydia felt a dull ache behind her eyes as the memory replayed in her mind, but it didn’t make her conclusion any less strong. Even when someone looked like they wanted to be alone, it wasn’t always the same as what they needed. 

Also, like her mother, her stubbornness was fueled by other people’s resistance.

So Robin would just have to deal with the fact that someone actually wants to sit with them this time.

* * *

The following night brought only misfortune upon the thriving girls’ soccer team of Southern High. After weeks of defending a winning streak, they took their first loss against another contender for the regular-season title, Oakland Academy. Lydia didn’t know much about sports to begin with, but she knew when the ball went into the net behind Robin, it was bad. Even worse when it happened _twice_.

Lydia witnessed a shift in the team once the center referee blew the final whistle. Most players on the bench appeared visibly defeated, and a lot of players on the field looked pissed or annoyed past the pure exhaustion. When she looked to the end of the field, the real difference in Robin’s disposition was the fact that they were walking to the bench. After a win, they’d jog with an energetic skip in their step.

The coach gave a big speech at the end of the game, making a point to tell his players to keep their heads up and focus on maintaining their high level of play, blah blah...Lydia didn’t listen any further. Instead, she leaned against a nearby brick wall and clicked through the photos she took. Occasionally, she glanced up to look at Robin. They kept themself steady, probably the product of seeing four seasons of victories and losses with this team. The captain couldn’t lose it. They had to keep face.

A skill of Robin’s that Lydia continued to find utterly irritating at times.

Getting on the bus was mundane and practically habitual at this point. Lydia always sat in the front, a few seats behind the coaches but also a good distance away from the team packed in the back. A few of the players had resumed their chatter as usual but with hushed voices to respect the mood. Where Lydia had become used to hearing what she would consider ‘tasteless radio’ music blaring from a speaker, there was only the music she liked playing in her own earbuds.

After the last person stepped on the bus, the wheels started turning, and they began the trip back to their own school. Lydia didn’t realize the last person was Robin until they lightly poked her shoulder to catch her attention.

“Hey, um,” they stammered as Lydia pulled her earbuds out. They were holding onto the back of her seat for balance, but they were in no hurry to sit down. They looked like something was really troubling them. “About what we talked about last night…”

When they trailed off, Lydia interjected. “I thought you said not to worry about it.”

“I did, and you shouldn’t,” Robin reassured her with a deep sigh. “I guess all that talk about my friends, erm…” They broke off again, recollecting their thoughts before speaking slowly. “I was afraid the way you saw them would change the way you saw me.”

Lydia shook her head, an endearing smile slipping onto her face. “Look, you’ve had a tough night–”

She stopped short when her own hand instinctively reached out to touch Robin’s. They both stared for a second, but neither of them made any attempt to move. Their skin was warm under Lydia’s fingertips, like a sun-kissed ocean beneath an estranged glacier. The moment would’ve lasted longer if the bus hadn’t hit a bump, making Robin stumble and have to readjust their hand. Lydia pulled hers back as well, and the silence between them that followed wasn’t so much awkward as it was unsure.

Robin was the one who broke it. “You always sit up in the front,” they observed with a curious look, flicking their head towards the other end of the bus. “Why don’t you join us in the back? It looks lonely up here.”

Lydia glanced over the back of her chair to all the girls in the back. She saw familiar faces, faces she knew the names to, but that’s about all she could see. The only time she could look back and see someone she was comfortable around was when Robin was sitting in the far back corner with the other co-captain. From her memory, Robin was always looking out the window with their earbuds in, just like herself.

“You mind some criticism?” Lydia offered doubtfully.

Robin pressed their mouth into a firm line, actually thinking it over. Now they knew just how observant and blunt Lydia was, so the question was: did they want to hear what she had to say?

They nodded. “I can take it.”

“You look lonelier.”

Robin looked down at their feet, a half-hearted laugh stumbling out. Lydia read the action as resentful and started to feel guilty until they dropped their bag into a nearby seat and plopped down beside her. They didn’t say anything. They just pulled out their phone and headphones, their signature smirk plastered onto their face. Then, they put one earbud in their ear and handed the other one to Lydia.

She hesitated, her eyes darting between Robin and the earbud a few times. They never retracted the offer, so Lydia eventually took the bud and placed it in her own ear. It wasn’t until she heard the familiar trill of Patrick Stump singing _“I don’t know where you're going…”_ that she threw her head against the back of her seat in a fit of cackles.

“I didn’t know this song was comedic,” Robin noted with an exaggerated fascination.

“Please, don’t ruin it,” Lydia sighed, closing her eyes and enjoying the poetic irony of Robin’s designated Fall Out Boy song. Robin did as told, letting their head lull back in a peaceful nap-like state. After the second chorus, Lydia nudged Robin’s shoulder to wake them up. They paused the music, cracked open one eye, and waited attentively for her to speak.

“If you're up for a little change in your plans next Saturday,” Lydia proposed slyly. “You can join me and my friends at the homecoming dance.”

“Alright,” Robin groaned in exasperation, though their smile gave away their repressed feelings of elation. “You can stop pulling my leg about it, I’ll go.”

“Good.” Lydia nodded, hitting play on Robin’s phone so they could go back to the song. “Wear red.”


	6. Jack of All Trades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles has his big country club meeting, and Lydia's along for the ride. Little do either of them know about a secret weapon they have within the gates of the club.
> 
> Ft. Lydia's teenage crisis

Lydia was never a morning person. Nor will she ever be. It was more than the fact that she preferred the night time. It was a pure unadulterated loathing for the minute the sun makes the decision to end whatever feeble amount of good sleep she manages to get and drag her into the soggy embrace of the dawn.

Lydia _hated_ mornings.

However, her dad paid her to wake up early on this particularly sunny Saturday, and Lydia wasn’t about to get her polaroid film money repossessed. So, she woke up at some ungodly hour (9:30 am, a whole 3 hours later than she would wake up on a school day), and threw together a somewhat formal-ish attire while still maintaining the desired amount of edge. She accomplished this with a mesh long-sleeve under a celestial pattern dress and her trusted pair of buckle-boots. After doing her make-up and adding a few accessories, she took one look in the mirror and gave herself an impressed nod. 

Nothing about it said ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’. Mission accomplished.

“Now you’re leaving me on the weekends, too!” Beetlejuice whined from Lydia’s bed, his frowning face propped up in both palms. Needless to say he wasn’t taking too well to the news that Lydia was going out for most of the day. “C’mon Lydia, you’re killing me here! And I’m dead! You’re beating a double-dead horse!”

“Bloated zebra,” she corrected, testing a couple of different earrings against her ears.

Beetlejuice flew into a seated position and pulled his jacket forward proudly. “And a sexy one at that.”

“Whatever you say, Beej.” After picking spiky stud earrings, one of which connected to an ear clamp, Lydia turned to her desk to grab her camera. She figured if she was going to some pompous country club, she might as well capture the scenery. However, the camera wasn’t there. She turned to Beetlejuice. “Have you seen a polaroid camera around here somewhere?”

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “You mean the clunky black thing I threw out the window?”

Lydia’s eyes snapped wide open. “You what?!” she screamed.

“Kidding!” Beetlejuice hurriedly admitted, and Lydia felt her heart stop for a moment. She put a hand on her forehead, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath to calm herself down. Beetlejuice gave her a weird look. “You left it in the attic last night, jeez.”

“Oh thank God,” she sighed, grabbing a small messenger bag off a hanger and heading for the door.

“God had nothing to do with it. More importantly, back to what I was saying.” Beetlejuice vanished in a puff of green smoke and reappeared in a similar fashion on the ground with his arms locked around Lydia’s leg. “Please don’t leave me!” he wailed pathetically.

“Dude–!” Lydia tried to shake him off.

“I’m begging you! I can deal with the three days you’re at school, but why ya gotta go the one day you’re home!”

“That’s…not even correct.” Lydia kicked him off her leg and grabbed for the door handle, but when she turned back, Beetlejuice was sitting on the floor with the most pitiful look on his face. His lip was quivering, and his eyes were comically glossy with tears. Lydia rolled her eyes but caved nonetheless. “Look, I’ll be back around lunch, and we can do whatever wild and crazy shit you wanna do then,” she offered, and Beetlejuice immediately lit up like a Christmas tree. Lydia glanced around her bedroom. “My room is looking like it needs a hellish revamp, don’t you agree?”

Beetlejuice thrummed his fingertips against one another, a devious chuckle rumbling in his throat. “Hehe, you got it kid,” he agreed, following Lydia out as she opened the door.

The pair went to the attic, where Adam and Barbara were painting a birdhouse.

“Wow, you guys get bored up here, don’t you?” Lydia observed pessimistically.

“Yeah, all these useless hobbies come in handy when you can’t leave the house,” Barbara replied with a strained smile. Lydia made a mental note to ask her dad to put a TV in the attic or buy them an iPad because this was sad.

Adam looked up from his work and narrowed his eyes at Lydia. “Why are you so dolled up, little lady?”

Lydia didn’t answer at first. Once she saw her camera on the couch, she made a beeline for it and checked the lens and flash. Then, without looking up, she answered Adam. “Dad’s taking me to some country club for a big real estate meeting.”

“Ooooh,” Beetlejuice cooed excitedly. “Can I crash this one?”

“No,” Lydia denied immediately, hanging her camera around her neck. “You can’t leave the house, remember?”

“Not with that attitude,” he scoffed. “One of these days, I’m hoppin’ on a sandworm and riding straight to Vegas!”

_ Vegas. _

Lydia snapped her fingers. She knew she forgot to do something.

“That reminds me…” She pulled out her phone, and Beetlejuice curiously hovered over her shoulder.

“Whatcha doing?”

“I forgot to tell Robin about the casino theme for homecoming.” After sending a quick text, she put her phone away and let out a sigh of relief. “Jasmine would have killed me.” Beetlejuice gave her a suggestive look as if she just said something incriminating. Lydia rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, I meant figuratively kill me!”

Beetlejuice dropped his face for one of confusion. “Who’s Robin?”

“They.”

“Oh! So they does have a name,” he pondered aloud, utterly dumbfounded at the idea. “And what’s this homecoming thing?”

Barbara took the liberty of explaining, “It’s a school dance.” She got a dreamy look in her eye, a sigh escaping her lips. “I always had a blast. My girls and I would always get ready at my house, and then we’d take pictures with the boys.” She reached out and grabbed for Adam’s hand, and he responded by giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And we’d all drive to the school and dance the night away.”

Beetlejuice and Lydia gave the happy couple blank stares, the former frowning in confusion with a single snaggletooth poking out. He turned to Lydia for an explanation, which came rather monotonously. “Everyone dresses up according to some weird theme and dances in a hot room with tacky lights.”

“I’ve done that before.” Beetlejuice nodded in understanding. He put his hands on his hips and marveled at the memory. “And lemme tell ya, anything goes in Greece.”

That last comment sank in the room like bitter molasses. Then, they all cringed in utter disgust.

“Ew, Beetlejuice!” Adam exclaimed, his face screwed up at the visual.

Lydia slapped Beetlejuice's arm, appalled. “What you’re thinking of is nothing like–” But she stopped herself short and remembered she went to school with a bunch of horny adolescents who lacked proper sex education. “On second thought, you’re probably really close,” she amended with a thoughtful expression.

Barbara shook her head in an attempt to cleanse her mind of those unholy thoughts. After, she brought back something else Lydia mentioned. “So Robin is going with you?”

“Yeah, I asked them the other day.” Lydia was nonchalant about it. Little did she know, everyone else in the room was thinking something completely different (In Beetlejuice’s case, he was definitely thinking about ostriches). Before the Maitlands could inquire further, a car horn went off outside.

“That’s my dad. I better go,” Lydia said with a glance out the window. She bade her deceased pals farewell and left the attic.

After they were sure she was gone, Adam let out an exasperated breath.

“Barbara, looks like you might be winning the bet after all,” he conceded, taking his glasses off to give his wife an impressed look.

“No high school romance can resist the pull of a school dance,” she stated proudly. “And knowing Southern High’s inability to change, they have three dances a year, so I have three shots at nailing this bet.” She crossed her arms, looking between her two opponents. “Anybody wanna change their guess?”

“I’m sticking with mine,” Adam asserted, pulling out an index card where they all wrote down their votes for ‘Lydia’s Hallmark Romance’, as indicated on the card. “Between the end of Robin’s season and the end of the calendar year. The least stressful time for a fall athlete in their senior year and the perfect time to take a chance on a pretty girl.”

Beetlejuice snorted at the two and leaned back in the air like he was in a lawn chair. “You guys are thinking about this way too much.” He put a hand to his chest with a haughty nature about him. “I am a romance master and Lydia’s B.F.F.F.F. forever, so I’m positive I’m winning this bet for sure.”

Adam put his glasses back on and narrowed his eyes at the card. “You didn’t even pick a timeframe,” he pointed out accusingly. “You just drew a picture of Lydia with a bloody knife.” 

Barbara took the card from Adam and tilted her head incredulously. “That’s concerning.”

“It should be,” Beetlejuice replied factually. “Lydia’s mildly psychotic, but that’s okay because we should respect all of who she is.”

Barbara and Adam exchanged a glance. While they were sure Lydia would never be that evil, they did have to admit that Beetlejuice had a point.

“Oh, that poor kid.”

* * *

The car ride to the country club wasn’t terribly long. Lydia supposed her dad would try to keep his properties convenient, and it also made for a minimally boring travel experience. Of course, she had the regular buzzing from her phone to keep herself entertained. 

_ Robin: _

_ 1920s Casino? _

_ Lydia: _

_ thats what jazz wants _

_ Robin: _

_ You’re really lucky I happen to have a red tailcoat _

_ Lydia: _

_ im gonna regret asking this but y do u have a red tailcoat? _

_ Robin: _

_ The place I work always holds crazy formal functions. _

_ Lydia: _

_ that require u to wear a red tailcoat? _

_ Robin: _

_ This ain’t my first Roarin’ 20s rodeo, missy _

_ Lydia: _

_ call me missy again and ill throw u in a haunted house _

_ Robin: _

_ I’d be scared if I couldn’t throw you first _

Lydia pursed her lips in annoyance, wishing she was talking to them in person so she could wipe that dumb smirk off their face. While she was plotting her revenge, her dad pulled the car into a parking lot. She may have been hired to be an ‘authentic teenager’, but she would still be scolded for having her phone out.

_ Lydia: _

_ i gtg my dad is dragging me to some country club _

_ Robin: _

_ Bryer’s Ridge? _

_ Lydia: _

_ thats the one _

Lydia put her phone in her bag and waited for the car to come to a complete stop before hopping out onto the pavement. Her dad walked around the car to meet her and straightened his jacket with a deep sigh.

“Are you ready?” he asked her.

“I don’t think I’m the one who needs to be asked that question.” Her response didn’t seem to settle his nerves, so she changed her tactics and gently patted his arm. “Just another business deal, Dad. You’ve done this a million times.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” he replied, and the pair began their walk down the parking lot towards a grand old building whose first appearance greatly disguised the real size of the property. The front entrance made the club appear to be barely anything more than a restaurant and a ballroom, but the hill it sat on hid the lower level, which extended into a greater expanse of the land and gradually fell into a bright green field that made up the golf course. Lydia pulled up her camera and snapped a picture from the lot. She felt like she was thrown into the summer-based sequel of a privileged disney movie.

Out of nowhere, Lydia’s phone went off like crazy. She let her father walk ahead a few paces while she pulled it out and checked the screen. She had an incoming call from Robin as indicated by the tell-tale contact photo of a lion with its tongue out. Lydia declined the call and stepped right back up to her father’s side. The only hitch in that plan was that her phone went off again. Annoyed, she answered it this time.

“This better be important,” she grumbled into her phone, turning away from her father so he didn’t detect any lack of commitment on her part.

“It is, I swear,” Robin said on the other line. “I have a question for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Where do golfers go on Saturday nights?”

Lydia rolled her eyes, irked at the dumb query. “Robin–”

“It's a very important question.”

Charles looked over at her, a warning glare in his eye. “Lydia.”

“Dude, I gotta go.” And she hung up. She shoved her phone back in her bag and crossed her arms. Her dad let the matter drop as well. For a moment, she pondered on how bizarre that was. Robin wasn’t the kind of person to call without a text’s heads up, especially for a question that could have easily been asked over text anyway. However, she was cut from her thoughts when a golf cart came zooming into view out of the corner of her eye. Charles and Lydia stopped right at the edge of the sidewalk while the cart zipped right up to them.

“To the golf club!” said one very amused Robin from the driver’s seat, their phone hanging loosely in their grip. “I thought it would be an obvious answer.”

Lydia felt her brain short circuit and the all too familiar sensation of losing brain cells. She felt a whole wave of emotions that turned her annoyance into humor and back into even more annoyance. And Robin, clad in a golf polo and cargo shorts, had the nerve to laugh at her stunned expression.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Lydia half-screamed, half-laughed, running up to Robin and giving their shoulder a shove. It didn’t seem to wreck their elated mood. “That was awful!”

“But you’re smiling,” they pointed out rather smugly.

Lydia didn’t retort to that. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at the company logo on their light blue polo. “So this is where you work?”

“Every weekend when the green is good and the wine is fine,” they mused poetically, pulling their sunglasses off their nose. Lydia made a face of utter disgust at the bizarre line, and Robin quickly amended, “I swear I didn’t make that up myself. That’s just what my manager always says.”

Lydia gave them a skeptical nod. “I’ll pretend I believe you.”

Charles cleared his throat, drawing the attention of both teens to his looming presence behind his daughter. Lydia took it upon herself to initiate the introduction, knowing both of them were too awkward to do it themselves.

“Robin, I’d like you to meet my dad.” Lydia gestured to her father with an open hand before turning to Charles. “Dad, this is Robin, a friend from my school.”

Robin stepped out of their golf cart and held out their hand to Charles. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Charles took their hand and shook it twice. “Pleasure’s all mine.” Robin sat back on their cart, and Charles gestured loosely between them and Lydia. “Have you two known each other long?”

Lydia shrugged. “Only since the first day of school.”

Charles mumbled a small noise of fascination. “How’d you meet?”

“She was late to class,” Robin answered before Lydia could make up some conventional story. “I wrote her late pass.”

Charles narrowed his eyes at Lydia. “You were late on your first day?” he questioned in a parental tone.  It dawned on Lydia that in all of her avoidance to get the pass signed, she also neglected to tell her parents that she was ever late at all.

“You really had to throw that in there, didn’t you?” she said to Robin through gritted teeth, a painful smile still plastered to her face.

“Just keeping myself honest," they replied, putting their hands up defensively. Then, they looked between the two Deetz's in curiosity. “Now, as much as I dream that the girl I tutor and her father would come visit me at my minimum-wage job–”

“Keep dreaming,” Lydia interjected.

“–What really brings you two to Bryer’s Ridge Country Club?” Robin waited for the answer, and Lydia turned to her dad to give him the floor.

“I’m here to see Sydonia Bryer.” He straightened his coat and tie for the umpteenth time since they left the house. “I have a business appointment with her.”

“Good luck with that,” Robin told him with a sympathetic grin. “I started working here right before her father handed the keys off to her. He was a nightmare of a boss and would have sold us out for the right price, but Sydonia?” They paused to chuckle. “She cares about this place and the people in it. She won’t hand it off to just anyone.”

Lydia tilted her head, seeing a way to help her dad sitting right in front of her. “You know what it’s like around here,” she observed fondly. “Got any tips for my ol’ man?”

Robin gave Charles a good, long critical look, and the latter seemed to stand up even straighter if that were possible. “Be a lot less…” Robin began, gesturing to what seemed like all of him. “That.”

“I beg your pardon,” Charles rebuffed.

“I mean no offense, sir,” they confided, leaning further back into the safety of their golf cart. “But Syd is not one to fall for the whole three-piece-suit big-man-in-charge hoorah that every other buyer comes in with.” They pointed a finger at Lydia. “I’ve seen at least two guys before you bring their sons, who are half her age and groomed by nannies, and they did nothing to help their dads.” They spared Lydia a guilty glance. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Anyway, being efficient and ambitious is great," they noted, giving Charles two thumbs up. “But you gotta show Sydonia that you can be relaxed.”

Lydia looked at her dad and deadpanned, “You’re screwed.”

He would have sent her another warning glare if he wasn’t even more stressed out than he seemed before. Lydia looked to Robin, who shared the same feeling of concern that she did. However, they made a small wave of their hand as if to silently say _‘I got this.’_

“Practice with me,” they suggested. Charles gave them a skeptical look, and so did Lydia, but they sent her a reassuring wink before addressing her dad again. “What’s your pitch? Why should Syd sell you her family’s coveted country club.”

“You want to help me?” Charles repeated in uncertainty.

“Sure.” 

Charles, ever the cautious man, looked to his daughter for guidance. This was new territory for him, taking real-estate advice from a teenager, but he trusted Lydia’s judgment of character (for the most part, Beetlejuice ever the exception). Lydia nodded her head, and Charles turned on his formal charm.

“Well, I’ve been looking into the land around this property,” he began, and Robin listened with an attentive ear. “It is the epicenter of three major high school zones, is within walking distance of five recreational spaces, and a ten-minute drive from the city mall. Yet it only caters to older folks with good financial standing.”

“Keen observation,” Robin stated, their tone flat and unbiased. It emulated the pressure of business. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“My first plan is to make a partnership with the school system,” Charles explained, and Robin kept their reaction minimal and neutral. “Offer modified membership to students in the local schools to encourage younger consumership.”

“Where’s the appeal for kids to come to a century-old country club?”

“Somewhere to go after school.” His voice turned soft and empathetic. “For children whose parents aren’t always home or teenagers who don’t quite want to go home yet.”

Lydia looked up at her father, a feeling of warmth flooding her chest at her father’s intentions. Now she knows why this deal was so important to him. He’s making sure there was never a ‘last-minute daycare’ fiasco again. He was a man who valued stability, after all.

“Why not go to the mall?” Robin challenged.

Charles was ready with a rebuttal. “The mall doesn’t have an indoor pool.”

“The gym does.”

“The gym doesn’t have a minibar,” Charles chuckled. Robin quirked a brow at his language, and he quickly amended, “With age-appropriate refreshments, of course, some of which will be paid for by the modified membership I have proposed.”

Robin nodded in understanding, but they weren’t done playing devil’s advocate. “Speaking of payment, how do you expect all of these full-time students, most of whom aren’t old enough to have jobs, to pay for your modified memberships?”

“The schools will pay for them.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because they would have access to the facility for major events such as student art exhibits and school dances.” 

“Prom can be an expensive thing,” Robin agreed. “And finding a venue can be tricky.”

“Exactly, and introducing the kids to the country club would bring in more membership from their parents.”

“Fair enough.” Robin’s expression melted from the stoic facade to an impressed smirk. “You seem to have a pretty damn good handle on this. I don't think you have much reason to be stressed.”

“Why, thank you.” Charles regained his confident composure. “I’ve been preparing for this meeting for months.”

“I can tell,” Robin remarked. “I admit, I like the idea of getting more kids in here. I’m tired of driving golf carts for ungrateful sugar daddies.”

They caught Lydia’s eye just in time to see the tell-tale shake of her suppressed laugh. They seemed rather proud of themself for any instance they amused her.

“Well, if you’re still offering advice,” Charles said, bringing Robin’s attention back to him. “Is there any other way I can separate myself from other buyers before me? Something that can make me seem more, I don’t know…” He trailed off, grabbing for what he was trying to say. “In with the times?”

Robin and Lydia exchanged a look, a shared thought already on both of their minds, something most adults didn’t know. Robin poked a finger against their own chest and raised their eyebrows in question, inquiring permission from Lydia. She hitched her head in her dad’s direction, granting them approval and promising safety in that one little gesture.

Robin leaned their elbows onto their knees. “Mr. Deetz, have you ever heard of the term ‘non-binary’?”   


“Of course I have," Charles answered, much to the teens' surprise. "I listen to NPR.”

Lydia wanted to facepalm her hand through her skull.

* * *

It was a good thing Charles was perpetually early to his meetings because Robin and Lydia spent the next ten minutes giving him a ‘chill-the-fuck-out’ make-over. Nothing too drastic, they just told him to ditch the tie and carry his jacket over his shoulder, and yet he already looked vastly more approachable. Of course, looking approachable was one thing; actually _being_ approachable was going to take a bit of intervention from his helper elves.

Robin drove them all down to the beginning of the golf course where all the other carts were parked in a garage. They told Lydia and Charles to wait out by the tee off range while they went to go find their boss. While Charles gazed out into the fields, Lydia was bringing her camera up to her face and taking photos of both the fields and him. She slid the developing polaroids into her bag, looking up at Charles with a sense of pride for her father brimming inside her.

“I see what you’re trying to do,” she said, referring to his big plan to turn the country club into a haven for kids who need one. Lydia was smart, but Charles knew that.

“I know.” He kept his focus out on the green.

“Mom would like it.” That she knew for a fact, having watched both of her parents meticulously scan through daycare reviews on a random day when they suddenly found out neither of them would be home.

Charles' shoulders went rigid at the mention of his late wife, but then he gradually relaxed as a solemn smile spread onto his stubbled face. “I hope so.”

Meanwhile… 

“Syd, hey,” Robin said as they knocked on the open door of one Sydonia Bryer. The woman in question glanced up from her computer screen, and even though she looked like she was busy, Robin knew she was watching some sci-fi Netflix show. Robin stepped inside and cleared their throat. “I found a Mr. Deetz out in the parking lot. Says he’s looking for you?”

Sydonia visibly deflated in utter annoyance, a reaction Robin was all too familiar with at this point. The company that ran the country club’s business had been nagging her to sell the property for a long time since she clearly didn’t want to be in charge, but she was also insanely protective of her family’s legacy. So far, the prospective buyers had yet to impress.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” She turned off her computer and pushed herself out of her desk chair.

“I think this one’s promising,” Robin offered, following their boss out of the cramped office and back towards the golf cart garage.

“Ever the optimist,” Syd drawled, unmoved by Robin’s contribution. “But I can make that judgment on my own.” Robin took that as a cue to shut up until further necessity and promptly stopped trying to help Lydia’s dad’s case...for the moment.

When the two reached the garage and walked towards the course, they found Lydia and Charles waiting in the clearing near the driving range. 

“Mr. Deetz,” they called out to Charles, and he responded by turning in their direction. Robin waved him and Lydia over. “Right over here.”

Lydia’s first impression of Sydonia Bryer felt like she was looking into a magical mirror that reflects one's future. The black dress pants and collared shirt aside, this woman looked like someone who would frequent a tattoo parlor. She had a sleeve on one arm and another tattoo peeking out of her collar in addition to the nose and ear piercings. Lydia could already say this was going to be her favorite real-estate excursion ever.

“Thank you, Robin,” Charles said casually, holding a loose fist out for a natural yet cringy fist bump. Lydia sent Robin a nauseated look, but Robin simply shrugged. It was all part of the plan.

“Already getting to know the staff?” Sydonia observed, crossing her arms over her chest with an analyzing glare. “Bold move.”

“Actually Robin’s a friend of the family,” Charles explained, again following along with a plan they all came up with prior to this introduction. He also may have added a bit too much emphasis on a very deliberate detail. “ _They_ go to school with my daughter, Lydia.”

Minimally intrigued by Charles' impressive conduct, Sydonia looked Lydia up and down, and the latter waved her fingers with a smirk that was half-courteous, half-devious.

“Nice choker,” Sydonia complimented her monotonously.

“Cool piercings,” Lydia shot right back.

Sydonia gave her a curt nod of approval before turning her calculating eyes back on Charles. She sized him up for a moment longer, and Charles tried to look as composed yet relaxed as he could. Finally, Sydonia took a step back and hitched her head towards the direction of her office.

“Shall we?”

With a nod from Charles, the two adults left to go have their meeting, leaving Lydia alone in an unfamiliar environment with a familiar face. Robin found the nearest golf cart and slumped into the driver’s seat with a tired groan. Lydia wandered over, her hands folded behind her back and her gaze lingering on her dad’s back as he followed Sydonia into the main building.

“I think we gave him a good boost,” she pointed out. Robin followed her eye line, a low sigh falling from their lips. 

“He’s on his own now.” They set their eyes on Lydia, who was still looking the other way, when a curious gleam flashed in their eyes. “By the way, what color corsage do you want?”

“What?” Lydia asked, genuinely puzzled by the question. “Why would I…” Right when she started to ask the question, their intentions started to clarify themselves in her head. “Wait, you’re not–”

“I was planning on getting you one,” they interjected with a sheepish grin. “That’s the typical tradition, am I wrong?”

“Sure, I guess,” Lydia stammered, flustered by the implication. “If it was a…”

“A date?”

“Yeah,” Lydia sighed, her face screwed up in guilt. Robin’s smirk faltered a little as the conversation took an awkward turn.

“So it’s not a date?”

Lydia busied her hands in front of herself, carefully wording her response. “I didn’t intend for it to be,” she answered slowly.

Robin nodded their head steadily, turning in their seat until they were facing the cart’s steering wheel. Lydia worried her lip between her teeth. A million contradictory thoughts were flying through her head in one second. _How could they think it was a date? Of course, they thought it was a date! Why didn’t I say it wasn’t a date? Did they want it to be a date?_

_ Do  _ I _ want it to be a date? _

Before she could spiral any further into the tragic darkroom that was her own mind, Robin said apologetically, “My bad.”

Lydia snapped out of her own thoughts and was quick to correct them. “No, you’re fine–”

“I just assumed ‘cause you asked–”

“Robin–”

“And you’ve been telling me what to wear–”

“Robin.” At the second use of their name, Robin stopped rambling and waited patiently for Lydia to continue. She did so with utmost precaution, as though she were talking to an easily frightened animal (which she was starting to see was a more accurate description than most would think). 

“You did nothing wrong.” She put a reassuring hand on their shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it clear in the first place.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” they insisted, but Lydia sent them a glare that screamed _‘accept the apology or I’ll plan your funeral’_. They settled for resting their much larger hand over hers. “It’s all good,” they replied.

Though Lydia wasn’t altogether convinced. Yet again, their crooked smile didn’t fully reach their eyes. They looked more exhausted than content. “You don’t look all good,” she noted with a curious hint to her voice.

They glanced at her eyes from under their sunglasses for a moment, looking her up and down as Sydonia had done to her father.

“Jump in,” they eventually responded, effectively changing the topic as they patted the seat beside them. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Lydia scoffed but left the issue alone for now. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

They looked over Lydia’s shoulder towards the garage and shouted, “Hey Chad, can you man the fort? I’mma take an extended break.”

Lydia turned around to see a tall, lanky blond hosing down the other golf carts. “I gotchu, bro!” Chad yelled back with a shocka. “I’m pocketing the tips though!”

“Go for it, dude!” Then, with practiced speed, Robin unengaged the break in their cart and drove a circle around Lydia to give her direct access to the free spot beside them. Lydia narrowed her eyes at them, but they just draped an arm across the back of the seat and waited with a cocky smirk. Deciding she didn’t want to be bored for what could be an hour-long meeting, she wordlessly stepped into the cart and sat down. The mood was calm for a moment, and then Robin surprised her by flooring the accelerator pedal.

_Full of fucking surprises, this kid,_ Lydia mentally noted, grabbing the edge of her seat so the site of her death wouldn’t be a goddamn golf course.

Robin drove the cart up a hill to the parking lot and, much to Lydia’s astonishment, left the property. Lydia even took notice of the ‘No Carts Past This Point’ sign, but Robin didn’t seem to care. They just kept rolling down the residential roads.

“Are you allowed to do this?” Lydia asked wearily.

“Probably not.”

The casual answer, if nothing else, excited Lydia. She made a small hum of fascination and sat back in the seat.

“What?” Robin asked, sensing she clearly had something on her mind.

Lydia shrugged. “Not gonna lie, I had you pegged as a goody-two-shoes.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” they admitted, drumming their fingers against the edge of the steering wheel. “I’ve never done this before.”

Lydia took note of that, withholding judgment on whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. She still hadn’t forgotten how Robin coaxed her into the golf cart to avoid addressing yet another one of her vulnerable observations…

Okay, maybe she _was_ spending too much time with Delia.

After a while of cruising down streets and sidewalks, they pulled into the parking lot of a community center and headed towards a drive-through Baskin-Robbins. Following a slow stop-and-go ramp and an incredibly awkward exchange between Robin and the cashier, who had never seen a golf cart at their window, Robin parked the cart in the lot so the two could enjoy their ice cream amidst the casual noise of a grocery store lot.

“I can’t trust someone who willingly eats plain vanilla ice cream,” Robin claimed, putting their feet up on the dashboard.

“Like chocolate is such an original option,” Lydia retorted, stabbing her spoon into her cup of, as aforementioned, vanilla ice cream. She took another spoonful in her mouth while she waited for a witty comeback, but none came. Robin just took her challenge with a shrug, idly poking around in their own cup of ice cream. Now, Lydia knew something was really bugging them. “Okay, what’s up?”

“Huh?”

“I think we’ve established I can read you like an open book,” Lydia reminded them haughtily, to which Robin just shook their head and switched their focus back to their ice cream cup. Lydia nudged their shoulder gently, hoping to comfort them into talking. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nosy,” they twitted under their breath.

“Deflective,” Lydia shot back.

“Life coach,” they countered with a snort, taking advantage of the moment to hold Lydia’s analytic approach over her head. Unfortunately for them, it didn’t deter Lydia in the slightest. Rather, she focused on their face with narrowed eyes and pursed her lips together. Their attempt to throw her off only opened them up to more critical analysis.

“Is this about the dance?” Lydia asked suspiciously after a moment of silence. Robin rolled their eyes and hung their head, staring down at their hands. Their lack of response served as confirmation. Lydia scooted a little closer to them until their shoulders brushed against one another. “Did I break your heart?” she teased in a joking manner, taking off the life coach hat and putting on the bantering-friend one.

It managed to draw a chuckle out of Robin, much to Lydia’s relief. “No, not you,” they replied. Lydia waited for them to elaborate, intrigued by this new revelation. Their eyes flickered between their hands and her until they eventually sighed, “Wanna know the reason I wasn’t too excited about going to homecoming in the first place?”

Lydia nodded, always up for a good story but sensing this one would have a less than happy ending. A sympathetic look already took root on her face.

“I was asked to the dance last year by some girl on the dance team,” Robin began, staring straight ahead. “She was a senior, and I’d seen her in a few classes, but we weren’t necessarily close. I didn’t really think much of it, so I ended up going with her, two of her friends, and their dates. After talking to the other two guys, I found out they were in very similar situations to me, barely knowing their dates and all, and uh…” They poked around their ice cream cup a few times, and Lydia got an idea of where this story was headed. “A little while into the dance, this girl and her friends kinda ditched us.” They shrugged, trying to dismiss the whole thing, but their tone betrayed feelings of sadness. “It was the first time anyone really asked me to anything, but we were all just throwaway arm candy.”

By the story’s conclusion, Lydia was a little more than annoyed. “What’s her name?” she demanded in a cool, even tone.

“Lydia, it was just a school dance,” Robin stressed, shaking their head. “It’s no big deal.” Lydia wasn’t convinced.

“I just wanna know the bitch’s name,” she repeated, pulling out her phone.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do?”

“I’m practically Instagram famous now,” she stated like she didn’t have Robin to thank for most of her 300+ new followers. “I’ll end her life.”

Robin snatched her phone away. “Don’t worry about her,” they said in a low tone, forcing Lydia’s attention to go straight to their hazel eyes just by leaning in a tad closer than she was used to. Lydia’s breath got caught in her throat, and she forgot the whole dancer-chick debacle in an instant. All she could think about was how their nose was mere inches away from hers. She had no idea how they looked so calm when she felt like her heart was halfway between busting out her chest and stopping completely just because they bit their bottom lip. She wanted to move, but she was still frozen to the spot. Then, to make matters, worse, Robin’s eyes flickered down Lydia’s face.

_ Wait, what?! _

“Hold on, don’t move,” they told her, pulling back from what Lydia declared the weirdest staring contest ever. Lydia furrowed her brow and stared off to the side, her brain trying to make sense of whatever just happened. Meanwhile, Robin wrapped a Baskin-Robbins napkin around their thumb before facing Lydia once more. Very carefully, they reached up and dabbed their covered thumb along the corner of her mouth. Yet again, Lydia felt paralyzed.

“You had some stray vanilla,” they chuckled casually, tossing the napkin into an empty cup holder. Lydia tried for a gracious smile before turning in her seat so they wouldn’t see the brief flash of panic fly across her face.

_ What in the literal hell just happened? _

“Besides, I can have a better homecoming experience without a date.” Robin picked up their earlier conversation like nothing out of the ordinary just happened. As though Lydia didn’t feel like her lungs were collapsing in on themselves in response to Robin making sure she didn't walk around with ice cream on her face. Nope, nothing abnormal happened, so Robin raised their cup of nearly-melted ice cream in a toast. “To new friends.”

Lydia followed suit, tapping her cup against Robin’s. “New friends.” Her voice cracked. 

“Famous last words, honey,” avowed a low, smooth voice. From behind the cart, a stout woman dressed in a full police uniform sauntered into view. She hooked her thumbs into her utility belt and narrowed her eyes at Robin, who stiffened under her glare. “As for you, normally I’d take my lunch break and find Chad hijacking a golf cart to take a girl out for a joy ride. Wanna tell me why it’s you this time?”

“Bad timing?” Robin suggested sheepishly, though the cop didn’t look all that impressed. Stepping out of the golf cart, Robin tried to show utmost respect in a hasty introduction.“Officer Randolf, this is Lydia. Her dad’s another buyer for the club.” They turned to Lydia and said through a very forced smile, “Officer Randolf is head of Bryer’s Ridge security.”

Randolf cleared her throat. “You still haven’t answered my question.” 

Robin hesitated, piecing together a story that didn’t sound like ‘hijacking a golf cart for a joy ride’. “We go to school together,” they stated, jabbing a thumb at Lydia. “I was just showing her around the area.”

“Mmhmm.” Randolf looked far from convinced, an intimidating frown firmly etched into her face. “Careful Robinson, I’d hate to see you land on my list.” Robin swallowed hard at the mention of the officer’s ‘list’. Lydia was just watching the exchange like a dramatic tragedy until Randolf turned her stern glare on her and sized her up. Lydia suddenly felt a lot smaller than she actually was. 

“You look smart,” Randolf concluded, hitching her chin at Robin. “Make sure they don’t crash the cart on the way back.”

With that, she strolled off. It wasn’t until after Randolf was out of view that every one of Robin’s tensed muscles relaxed. They got back in the cart and sighed so deeply, Lydia thought they would bust a lung.

“What’s her deal?” she chuckled, missing the context of that woman’s power over the country club.

“She hates everyone,” Robin divulged, eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. “That’s just how she works.”

“She thinks I’m smart,” Lydia boasted, swiping Robin’s sunglasses from the collar of their shirt and putting them on her face with an innocent shrug. “Must not hate me.”

“She hasn’t had the pleasure of tutoring you,” Robin retorted.

“Are you implying something?”

“Who me?” Now Robin was the one acting blameless.

“Jackass.”

Lydia’s insult only coaxed a sarcastic scoff from them. “Yeah, spending time with you is _so_ pleasant.”

* * *

After the minor run-in with the law, Robin promptly drove them back to the country club. The whole way back, Lydia’s mind was spinning. On one hand, she was tempted to subtly scoot just a little closer to Robin on the off-chance of grazing their arm, an urge which she blamed on the breeze making her feel colder than usual. On the other hand, she felt like if she got any closer to them, her guts might actually turn inside out. She blamed that on motion sickness.

Robin steered the cart into the parking lot they started in, and the first thing Lydia noticed was her father standing at the entrance. He’d put his jacket back on and was back to looking his usual ‘stern-businessy’ self, which made Lydia assume the meeting had already concluded and he was just waiting on her. Lydia tapped Robin’s shoulder and pointed at her dad. They got the message and swerved the cart to the curb.

“How’d the meeting go?” she asked her dad once the cart came to a stop.

“I think it went well,” he answered with a curt nod. He still seemed mentally preoccupied with his work considering he didn’t even ask Lydia where she was that whole time. “I haven’t sealed the deal yet, but she said if I can persuade the schools into joining the agreement, it’s a very appealing offer.”

Robin, who hadn’t moved from their seat, raised a hand. “I can help with that.”

Charles furrowed his brow at Robin. “You can?”

“My mom’s head of the PTA at Southern High,” they said. “That’s kinda how I got the tutoring gig in the first place.”

Lydia forgot about that. She forgot entirely about how much she loathed the idea of having a tutor. Then, her tutor was Robin, and it suddenly didn’t suck. In fact, she even looked forward to their biology study sessions.

But she still _hates_ biology.

“You,” a stern tone from Charles broke Lydia from her thoughts as her father shook a finger at Robin. It looked like he was going to scold them, but it was quite the opposite. “I like you.” 

Charles took his leave, heading towards where he had parked his car earlier that morning. Lydia hesitated to follow him, opting to stay in Robin’s company just a little longer.

“Congratulations, you won my dad’s favor,” she teased, pretending to sound impressed. “Not an easy thing to do.”

“Really?” Robin asked, standing up only briefly to snag their sunglasses off of Lydia’s nose. For the instant that they were getting closer to her, Lydia felt her pulse spike again. “How many other callers have you had?”

_ One. And I killed him. Now his ghost resides in my attic. _

Weirdly enough, she almost wanted to tell them. Lydia was naturally a skeptic like her father, but Robin had a way of earning her trust right from the start. However, as freeing as the truth might be, Lydia wasn’t ready to unpack all of the mayhem that is her home life just yet. Hell, no one outside of the Maitland-Deetz household knew there were ghosts on the premises. Not to mention the fact that, as put together as Robin tried to seem, they would run for the hills if they found out Lydia’s house was haunted. For now, Lydia was fine keeping Robin in her external world of pretend-normalness. 

“I better go follow my dad so I don’t get left behind,” she said bashfully, avoiding the question altogether. “See you in school?”

Robin quirked an eyebrow at her dismissiveness but refrained from commenting. “Yeah, I guess.” They gave her a small farewell smile as Lydia walked away in the same direction as her dad. A moment later, Lydia heard from behind her, “Get that late slip signed!”

“I’ll think about it!” she hollered over her shoulder.

And she did. The thought of getting that slip signed and eliminating the need for Robin to check in on her every morning made her feel queasy, so she stopped thinking about it. However, she did have another problem on her hands.

_ What is going on?! _

* * *

“Got any twos?”

Barbara sifted through her deck, shaking her head at Adam. “Go fish.”

The latter sighed and reluctantly pulled a card from the center of the deck. Barbara smiled devilishly at her husband.

“Got any eights?”

Adam rolled his eyes but pulled the card from his deck nonetheless. “Here.”

“Got any aces?” Beetlejuice piped up from his side of the table.

“Beetlejuice, you stole all the aces from the deck at the beginning of the game,” Adam reminded him.

Beetlejuice didn’t even try to deny it. He just snickered mischievously, “Hehehe, yeah I did.”

Their uneventful card game was brought to an abrupt end when the door to the attic swung open, revealing a rather distraught Lydia in the doorway. 

“You’re home!” Barbara exclaimed, thankful for a premature end to what would have been their eighth game of Go Fish. “How was the country club?”

Lydia closed the door and slumped against it with a dazed look. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“What’dya mean?” Adam asked, putting his cards down and standing from the table with a concerned expression. “You feeling sick or something?”

“I dunno, maybe,” Lydia whined, trudging over to the couch and falling face-first into the cushions. Adam and Barbara exchanged worried glances before making their way towards the couch as well. Eventually, Lydia turned onto her side and explained in distress, “My chest keeps getting all tight, and my heart keeps racing out of nowhere.” 

“Well, if you die, I promise to throw away the rule book," Beetlejuice chimed in as he kicked his feet onto the table and began picking out the gunk beneath his nails.

“Not the time, Beetlejuice,” Barbara admonished him. She turned her attention back to Lydia before sitting on an armrest and soothing the gently tucking a strand of Lydia's hair behind her ear. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Actually, Beetlejuice might be onto something,” Lydia concluded, realization exploding on her face. “I think I’m dying,” she gasped, not because she was scared but because she was surprised she hadn’t thought of it sooner. With newfound resolve, she flopped onto her back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yep, this is it guys. I’m joining your ranks. Tell me when it’s over.”

Barbara snorted in disbelief at the show of dramatics. ”I’m sure that’s not what’s going on,” she assured Lydia.

”Did you eat something bad at the country club?” Adam suggested, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “I always thought the upper class was conditioning themselves against certain poisons out of paranoia.”

Everyone in the room took a moment to stare at Adam. The only difference among the glares was Barbara thought he was being ridiculous while Lydia and Beetlejuice thought he was onto something.

Lydia shook her head to get back on topic. She didn’t eat anything served by the country club, so Adam’s theory, while valid, couldn’t explain why she was dying. “I didn’t eat anything except the ice cream Robin bought me,” she said, covering her face with her forearms to block out the light of the room.

That got the attention of the ghosts in the room. Even Beetlejuice briefly looked up from his botched manicure. All of them exchanged a knowing look before Adam took the liberty of double-checking the information.

“Robin was there?”

“Yeah, they work at the club,” Lydia confirmed as she sat up with a groan of protest. Her hands instantly flew to her stomach. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Lydia, when did you start experiencing these feelings of…” Barbara questioned, her hands circling one another as she listed off Lydia’s complaints. “Shortness of breath, heart palpitations, light-headedness–”

“I never said I was light-headed,” Lydia interjected.

“Are you?”

Lydia slouched into the cushions with a sheepish pout. “...yeah.”

“Exactly,” Barbara said, resuming her doctor-esque inquiry. “When did these symptoms start occurring?”

“Jeez, earlier today?” Lydia’s annoyance at the impromptu questionnaire was becoming evident in her voice. “While Dad was in his meeting."

"And you were with Robin?"

"Yeah."

Barbara looked to Adam, flicking her eyebrows in suggestion. Adam nodded in silent agreement. Meanwhile, Lydia’s focus was darting cluelessly between the two ghosts.

“What, what’s wrong with me?” she inquired.

”Barbara, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Adam made a show of asking since he already knew his wife was well aware of what was on his mind.

“Robin has some contagious illness they never told me about?” Lydia cut in, grasping at straws.

”No, silly,” Barbara cooed, scooching onto the couch beside her and resting a corporeal arm around her shoulders. She spoke slowly and delicately so as not to spook Lydia with what she was about to say. Lydia picked up on the change in tone and gave Barbara a weary glare. “We’re thinking you may have the teeniest bit of a crush on your tutor.”

Lydia jumped back and away from Barbara. “A-a what?” 

”Teeny weeny crush,” Barbara squeaked, pinching her fingers together.

Lydia paused, her face melting from horrified to disgusted. “No,” she asserted, standing up and marching away from the couch. “No. No! That’s not it, we’re friends, I don’t like them like that!” With a defiant huff, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned her back on her second parents.

”You do bring them up a lot,” Adam pointed out. “And I’ve never seen you enjoy doing homework except when they come to help you.”

“Yeah, because we’re friends!” Lydia whipped around to face them once more. “I like being around them ‘cause we’re friends. I care about them ‘cause we’re friends. I wanted them to go to the dance with me–” She choked a little on that last point. Hearing it out loud certainly struck a different chord in her. “...because we’re friends.” 

Her finish was much less convincing, as it came out as more of a questioning stammer than a factual statement. Barbara and Adam continued to glance at each other, sharing their thoughts on the matter even when Lydia told them they were wrong. She turned to the last sensible being in the room–which was probably the last way one could ever describe said being. “Beej, help me out here.”

“I stopped paying attention when you weren’t dying anymore.”

Lydia groaned in exasperation and turned back to the Maitlands, only to find them still looking at her with suggestive expressions. “Stop looking at me like that!” she snapped, throwing her hands at her sides. “I don’t have a crush, alright? I’m not some kid in the fourth grade.”

“Lydia, there’s nothing childish about liking someone,” Barbara eased, slowly standing up and walking over to her. She put a reassuring hand on Lydia’s shoulder and smiled brightly. “It’s exciting!”

Lydia’s face screwed up in disdain. “On second thought,” she croaked, raising a single finger matter-of-factly. “I’m definitely gonna throw up.”

Then, she whirled around on the heel of her boot and made a beeline for the hallway. There was a moment of silence where all three ghosts looked at the closed door, not commenting on what happened just yet. Adam tried to catch a glance at his wife’s expression.

“What are you thinking there, Barbara?” Adam asked, leaning his elbows onto his knees.

“Denial,” she divulged smugly, putting her hands on her hips. “That just means we’re right.”

”I still think you’re both way off,” Beetlejuice grumbled stubbornly, holding his arms out in an exaggerated shrug. “All that nausea and heart crap is what you experience right before committing murder.”

Adam and Barbara’s eyes went as wide as saucers, and they slowly looked to each other with terror plain on their faces. Beetlejuice chortled from his seat.

“I’m winning this bet for sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, no one's gonna get killed! The pre-murder feelings are just similar to any good ol' high school crush...I assume. Anyway, this chapter took a LOT longer than I expected, but it also ended up being longer than I expected so I guess that's why. I'm sure we're all bummed about Beetlejuice closing prematurely, but let's keep our heads up through tough times :) Thanks for reading! -Jojo, whose cat keeps waking them up at 6 am


	7. Friend Zoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings were weird, Lydia knew that much. Feelings were inconsistent, Lydia knew that as well. What Lydia didn't know was what the hell was going on because it sure wasn't feelings!

That week was one of the slowest weeks of Lydia’s life. And it had _nothing_ to do with Barbara’s ridiculous theory.

At least, that's what she told herself

Monday brought about a sensation Lydia associated with stage fright. She felt completely fine and under control until she actually had to 'perform'–a.k.a see Robin. Try taking someone seriously when someone else suggests you like them. When Robin strolled up to her that morning, as they did every morning, she had to make an effort to keep herself from giggling like a bubbly idiot.

Because the idea of liking them was foolishly laughable. _That’s_ why.

Tuesday was almost better until Jasmine made the brilliant decision to invite Robin to their lunch table. It was under the pretense that she needed to ‘fill them in on the HoCo moves’, so Lydia should have been totally fine with it. Hell, she was ecstatic for any reason to get them away from the meatheads they usually sat with during lunch. However, she didn’t expect them to already know almost all of her friends. She remembered their whole ‘friend to all’ shtick, but it seemed to slip her notice that Robin was in the same year as Adrienne, an AP overachiever like Zachary, and an athlete like Brady. All they needed to do was be their normal charming self, and Jamie seemed comfortable with the infamous student MC sitting at their otherwise ignored lunch table. Thankfully, it was never questioned why someone as involved in other circles as Robin was tagging along with the photography club for homecoming. Lydia didn’t know if she could say ‘I asked them as a friend’ with a straight face.

Because it was hilarious that anyone would think otherwise.

Wednesday was when Jasmine started to notice something was up. Lydia’s subconscious was already combusting at the thought of the tutoring session later that night. Being alone with them for an hour? She wanted to avoid it until she figured out what was going on. She even tried to cancel, and here’s how that conversation went:

“I think I have a concussion.”

Robin blinked a few times, processing Lydia’s rather severe self-diagnosis before repeating, “A concussion?”

“Yep.”

“Okay,” they said slowly. “What happened?”

“I…” Lydia honestly didn’t think she’d get this far. “...tripped.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And fell.”

“Right.” A small smirk started to tug on their lips. They clearly weren’t buying her story whatsoever, but they let her continue. Lydia couldn’t decide if they were being courteous or smug. Either way, it disrupted her train of thought...out of annoyance.

“And then I smacked my head against a coffee table,” Lydia concluded with finality. Then, she tried to sell it by holding a hand to the back of her head and wincing. “Ow. Still hurts.”

“Did you go to a doctor?” Robin asked, genuine concern in their voice. They were humoring her, but there was a small part of them that was still worried.

“Uh, no,” she laughed nervously, punching them in the shoulder a little harder than necessary. “You know healthcare prices these days. They’re insane!” She had to shake her hand out behind her back because whatever they were hiding under their leather sleeves felt like punching a rock.

Robin nodded right along, probably thinking she was more insane than the ‘healthcare prices’ to which she was referring. What Lydia didn’t expect them to do is pull their phone out with a sigh and turn on their flashlight. 

“Alright, hold still,” they instructed calmly, crouching down so they were eye level with her. “And keep your eyes straight ahead.”

Lydia had a flashback to the golf cart fiasco because the exact same thing was happening, except instead of reaching for her mouth with a napkin, they were covering one of her eyes with their hand. It still had the same effect: Lydia froze. She literally could not move even if she wanted to because Robin was really close and staring at her with a hyper-focused gaze and that left her paralyzed. To make matters worse, time seemed to slow down, and she found it increasingly challenging to refrain from looking right into their eyes.

When they lifted their hand away, the flashlight was shining right behind it, and they made a small hum of thought. Then, they switched which hand held the phone and which hand covered Lydia’s other eye. By the time the light shined in her eye for a second time, Lydia finally found the sense to close her eyes against the glare and take a step back.

“Well, your pupils are dilating normally,” Robin chuckled while Lydia rubbed the discomfort from her eyes. “If I were any of my other teammates, I’d say ‘You’re fine, don’t tell Coach’.” 

Lydia blinked her eyes open to see Robin giving her a sympathetic look. “But if you’re not feeling great, I don’t see why we can’t just take a night off.”

Relief flooded through Lydia like a cool ocean wave on the hot sand, meaning it kept going in and out and not making a definite decision on whether or not Lydia was actually relieved. Before she could say anything else on the subject, a teacher walked by and called Robin back into the office. They flashed Lydia a quick smile before walking off to their first period post.

Lydia watched them go. It wasn’t until they disappeared behind the office door that Jasmine made her presence known.

“What in the hell was that?”

Lydia jumped at her friend’s accusatory demand. On top of forgetting how to move, Lydia forgot that Jasmine was there the whole time, watching what was no doubt a painful interaction with a blank stare.

“Um, that-that was…” Lydia stammered out, but words failed her in that moment. She was a poetry fiend, and English was the only class she could ace without trying, and yet the whole goddamn language flipped her the metaphorical bird.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jasmine articulated, crossing her arms over her chest. Lydia slumped against the wall and groaned in annoyance.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I swear that’s not it,” she insisted. Jasmine gave her a very unimpressed glare, not convinced in any measure.

“Mmhmm.” Lydia could hear the sarcasm dripping from her tone, even when she hadn’t said any actual words yet. “And I’m sure the reason your pale ass looks like a tomato is due to sunburn from the two last weeks of overcast, right?”

Lydia threw her head back in frustration, and she hit the wall so hard she might have given herself an actual concussion.

Thursday was unusual because Lydia didn’t see Robin that morning. She spent an absurd amount of time wrestling with whether or not to text them and ask where they were, if they were okay, make sure they didn’t get eaten by a giant sandworm, etc. She was just being friendly and cautious, nothing implicit about that, right? It only took the first fifteen minutes of first period for her curiosity to get the best of her, and she did end up texting them a small, nonincriminating text.

_ u alive? _

_Brilliant,_ Lydia mentally applauded herself. It was just distant enough to make sure Robin didn’t get the wrong idea. Lydia cared, sure, but she didn’t care too much. She cared in a not caring way, which is why she counted to ten before opening their response because she wasn’t someone who read a text two seconds after it was sent.

_ Dentist appointment.  _

_Of course,_ Lydia thought, the mild tension in her shoulders easing subconsciously. _Something mundane and normal like a dentist appointment. They’ll be back later and–_

Her internal monologue was cut short by another text from Robin:

_ Why, miss me? _

Lydia left them on read. That’s what they get for being an ass.

Friday was an abnormally warm day in Connecticut. Thankfully, it was also a dress-down day, so the students of Southern High were no longer restricted to pants and sweaters. While kids were free to strut about in summer clothes, Lydia was more concerned about the environment. She took this bizarrely hot day as a more certain sign that global warming was real and it’s a problem. In fact, it irked Lydia. It was mid-October! People had no business enjoying this catastrophic weather by wearing shorts and a muscle tank.

In case you’re wondering, ‘people’ was Robin in this scenario.

And it pissed Lydia off! The Earth was clearly dying, and Robin had the nerve to use it as an excuse to flaunt around their bare arms that were defined and built and rippling with strength if they so much as gave her a thumbs up. No wonder it hurt when Lydia punched them the other day. Robin’s arms were thick enough to kill the planet!

Because _that_ made sense in Lydia’s mind.

Today was Saturday. While that normally meant Lydia would spend the day as far from school as possible, it was also homecoming. She would spend a couple of hours on the parade, avoid the football game at all costs, and then come back later that night for the homecoming dance. The dance that she invited Robin to. And she will likely be with them the whole time.

_ Great. _

While Adrienne and the boys were working on the photography club banner, Lydia was tasked with waiting outside for their pick-up truck. It was only fitting since she was the one who arranged for it. The school parking lot was filled with trucks, each one with their own school club and their own theme. The financially-gifted clubs, like class council or NHS, could build entire landscapes in the back of someone’s 2018 Ford with costumes to match. Photography, on the other hand, would stick a banner on each side of a truck, hop in the back for a ride, and save the monkey suits for the dance.

All they were missing was the wheels.

“When’s the truck coming?” Jasmine asked, walking up to Lydia.

“Should be any minute now,” Lydia answered, checking her phone. “Robin said their dad’s on the way.”

“Perfect.” A moment of silence passed between the two friends. Jasmine gave Lydia a side-long glance, replaying the past week in her head. Needless to say, Jasmine had come to her own conclusions and was just waiting for Lydia to tell her she’s right. “While we’re waiting, is there anything you wanna tell me?”

Lydia looked at her with a puzzled look. “No,” she drawled in uncertainty. “Is there anything you need to tell me?”

“I hope I don’t but I fear I do.” Jasmine gave her a concerned expression while Lydia continued to stare cluelessly at her. She shrugged it off and took a different approach. “Well, since you’re offering, I’m gonna tell you a story about a friend of mine.”

“Oh, God.” Lydia had a sinking feeling this story was going to be more applicable to her than it should be.

“This friend is kinda stubborn and very headstrong,” Jasmine began, and Lydia rolled her eyes. She might as well have said ‘this friend is standing right next to me’. “She’s not very good at expressing herself. Like at all. Like her version of flirting is akin to watching a fork go through a garbage disposal–”

“I don’t flirt!” Lydia snapped.

“Bitch, not everything is about you,” Jasmine retorted, offended that she was interrupted. “Back to my story about my nameless friend. She obviously has some kind of feelings for certain soccer-playing senior who also happens to be her science tutor–”

“That’s specific.”

“And she probably thinks that sitting back and doing nothing will make all these magical feelings go away, but she’s just being dumb in my opinion.”

“Oh yeah, and what would you suggest your ‘friend’ do?” Lydia scoffed. She really hoped this ‘story’ had an ending. 

Jasmine deadpanned, “Stop being a little shit and admit to her feelings.”

“Harsh.”

“The truth hurts Lydia,” Jasmine preached wisely. “But it doesn’t hurt as much as lying to yourself.”

That concluded Jasmine’s analysis, and it left Lydia feeling more unsettled than she’d like to admit. First, Barbara, now her best friend. She wished people would stop trying to explain her own feelings to her. They were her own damn feelings! She could decipher them on her own…

Except she couldn’t.

Lydia had no logical explanation for what was going on. Talking to Robin was never this difficult. Being around Robin was never this exhausting. She was fighting an uphill battle against some opponent she couldn’t even put a face to, and everything she'd tried thus far had done nothing to move the odds in her favor. She tried avoiding Robin, but that only made her think about them more. She tried being cross with them, but she could never keep that up for long. She tried everything. Well, everything except giving up, and that’s exactly what Jasmine was suggesting. Stop fighting and accept the fact that she _might_ like Robin. In a not-friends way.

Lydia’s head flopped backward as a cringe fixed itself on her features. “This is so weird.”

Jasmine’s face lit up in fake-astonishment, taking Lydia’s whiny statement as the next-best-thing to a confession. “Welcome to humanity! Glad you finally decided to join the rest of us feelers.”

“I have never felt like this before,” Lydia continued to complain. “It’s just plain annoying.”

“It’ll get easier, Lyds,” Jasmine sighed dramatically, wrapping an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “But acceptance is the first stage of trials of the heart.”

“It’s definitely denial,” Lydia corrected bitterly. She could fill a novel with the number of times someone recited the five stages of grief to her.

“Well, we’ve long surpassed that in your case,” Jasmine retorted, turning Lydia around so she could face her head-on. “But I can guarantee you will feel so much better now that you’ve at least admitted to yourself you got a thing for Robin.”

Lydia groaned in discomfort. “Don’t say it out loud.”

“I’m helping you get used to the sound of it."

“Sure, you’re helping so much.”

They were interrupted by a car honk as a familiar black pick-up rolled up next to the curb. The shotgun window rolled down to give view to a stubble-faced man in the driver’s seat.

He pulled a pair of sunglasses off his face and hollered out the window. “Either of you know where I can find a Lydia Deetz?” 

“Right here,” Jasmine called out, pointing broadly to the top of Lydia’s head. Lydia loosely saluted the man she presumed to be Robin’s father, and he promptly parked the car and turned off the engine.

“Ah yeah, I shoulda recognized you from my kid’s games,” he said before getting out of his car. On closer examination, Lydia started to see Robin’s face in that of their dad. He was like a taller, grey-haired version of Robin, from the flannel to the floppy grin.

“Barry Robinson,” he introduced himself, extending his hand to Lydia in the exact same manner Robin always did when meeting someone new. She shook hands with him while he said, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Lydia felt Jasmine nudge her subtly in the back. They were both thinking the same thing, but Lydia was trying not to get her hopes up. So Robin’s mentioned her to their parents–a lot, she might add. Nothing to get eager about.

Their mundane introduction was interrupted when someone wearing a mascot-style shark head came sprinting up to Barry. Based on the sleeveless hoodie that said “Sharks Soccer” on the front, Lydia made the reasonable assumption that Robin was the head under the shark.

Barry looked his kid up and down, reading the clear body language of panic. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and said, “Shark fin’s in the back seat.”

Moving as quickly as possible, shark-head Robin ran to the car, threw the door open, and snatched a unique costume piece consisting of two long fins for sleeves that connected to a big dorsal fin in the back. Still in a hurry, Robin clambered to pull the sleeves on while running back towards the football field.

“Yo Steph,” their dad called out in a warm, husky voice. “Can you take a second to say hi to your Pops?”

Still trying to put on their shark fins, Robin spun on their heel and waved at their dad. They kept spinning, lost their balance, and all at once fell face-first onto the ground. Lydia watched the whole thing happen like a tragic slow-mo stunt fail on YouTube.

Barry ran to help them up, and once he was out of earshot, Jasmine leaned over to Lydia and whispered, “What a prize.”

* * *

The homecoming parade itself was more of a joy ride set to peppy school music. The photography float wasn't even close enough to the front of the parade to hear the band, so Barry offered to turn on the radio and score the parade to old rock and roll tunes. The banners on the truck were a classic black-and-gold ‘20s design with ‘Photography Club’ in big letters written across. Sure, it was no Art Honor Society, but they definitely looked better than the Glee club.

After driving around the block, the parade concluded in a big tailgate right outside the gates of the football field. Most of the photography club dispersed as soon as the parade had ended, and Barry joined a bunch of other parents at the concession stand, but Lydia and Jasmine stuck around to take the banners down. Right around the time they finished rolling up the canvas, they heard a loud thud from the pit of the truck. 

The two exchanged a curious glance before Jasmine tip-toed around the edge of the truck to see what made the noise. With a knowing expression, she turned to Lydia and grabbed the second banner from her hands before silently walking off. Lydia shot her a ‘what the hell?’ glare, but Jasmine simply nodded towards the direction of the pit.

As if Lydia didn’t already know what waited for her there.

Surprisingly enough, Lydia’s chest didn’t collapse in on itself like it had been doing all week. The bizarre sensations didn’t totally vanish, but they were much less unpleasant when she wasn’t fighting them. If anything, it felt more like an adrenaline rush. It drove her to use the giant back wheel of the truck as a step-up so she could sling her arms over the edge of the pit and peer into the trunk, where she found a shark-headed teen looking more like an exhausted starfish.

“So is the get-up a required thing for the MCs or did you ask to wear the shark head?” Lydia couldn’t help but poke fun at the whole humanoid shark outfit, especially when those pesky feelings made her miss out on a whole week of playful banter. She had to make up for lost time.

The forever-open eyes of the cartoony shark looked up at her, and the wearer struggled to pull off the head using their over-sized shark fins. Lydia slung a leg over the side of the truck to pull herself into the pit. Then, she took it upon herself to help de-head the shark, revealing a very disheveled looking Robin.

“Little bit of both,” they answered her question with a grateful nod. “I had to be spirited enough to get to this point.” They pulled their arms out of the fin-sleeves and ran a hand through their hair, which was sticking out in every other direction. “I thought I was gonna lose my good rep after I forgot the fins this morning.”

Lydia tried to suppress a laugh at the memory. “Nice landing.”

“There’s a reason why sharks don’t run on land,” they proclaimed, flopping onto their back once more with an exhausted groan. “No one told me parades were this much work.”

“I know right,” Lydia agreed with sarcastic inflection, settling down on a cooler. “I mean I had to wake up, wait outside, and sit in the truck for the whole thing.”

“Try running up and down the streets while dancing to the same damn marching song for forty minutes,” Robin lamented, covering their red face with their hands. 

“Hope you’re not too tired. You still got a dance tonight.”

“Why can’t homecoming be two days?” Robin whined. 

“Hey kiddo!” boomed the voice of Robin’s dad as he waltzed back up to the car. “Look alive, the game’s starting in twenty.”

“Just five more minutes.”

“No can do, Steph,” he said remorsefully, and Lydia tilted her head curiously. It hadn’t missed her attention that he had called Robin ‘Steph’ twice now. Robin seemed unbothered at the moment, so she reserved judgment. “I gotta take the truck back home.”

Robin only groaned again and rolled onto their stomach. Barry sighed at their stubbornness, checking his watch. Lydia glanced at the gates at the entrance to the field and got an idea.

“Race to the front gates,” she challenged, poking the heel of her boot into their leg.

As if they were struck by a bolt of lightning, Robin grabbed their shark head and jumped off the car to run for the front gates without so much as a word of agreement. Barry nodded at Lydia with a small ‘thank you’ before walking towards the driver’s seat. Lydia slowly let herself down from the truck when she remembered she actually had to run, too.

“Were you even trying?” Robin panted when Lydia finally made it to the front of the field. Students and their families were all piling in to watch the homecoming game, so the pair stood off to the side under the shade of a tree. 

“I’m not taking criticism from someone carrying a shark head,” Lydia shot back. “It’s a miracle you stayed on your feet this time.”

“Still won.”

“Still carrying a shark head.”

Robin snorted and leaned against the tree, fiddling with the edges of their shark head. “You sure are something else, Lyds.”

_Don’t react, don’t react,_ Lydia’s subconscious blared in her mind. As far as she knew, that something else could be a bad thing. She knew it wasn’t, but the alternative might turn her into–as Jasmine so eloquently put it–a tomato.

Luckily, Robin changed the topic before she could lose any more function.

“You sticking around for the game?”

“Me?” Lydia checked, pointing to herself. Robin nodded, and she shook her head in disbelief. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m not really a ‘sports’ person.”

“You seem to enjoy soccer just fine,” they pointed out.

Well, no. She was thrown into a situation where she was forced to watch soccer, got really good at sports photography, and now she keeps getting forced to watch soccer. Any ‘enjoyment’ component was plot-based.

Soccer has a plot, right?

“Come on, at least stay ‘til half-time,” they encouraged with an inviting smile. “The band plays, cheerleaders dance, and I announce the homecoming court.”

Lydia winced at how uninteresting it all sounded. “Yeah, you’re not quite selling it.”

“Well, only a senior can win homecoming queen, but you never know.” They shrugged “You could win junior homecoming princess.”

“Sounds prestigious, but I doubt I made the cut,” Lydia scoffed, making it evident just how highly she thought of a position like ‘homecoming princess’. On a softer note, she added, “I’m practically nobody.”

“You’re not nobody to me,” Robin countered smoothly, making Lydia look down at her feet. Looks aside, Robin had a way with words that always seemed to send her stomach on its own personal roller coaster. “You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had."

And the roller coaster came to a screeching halt.

That hurt. Lydia didn’t know why, and she hated to admit it, but that hurt. _Why did that hurt?_

_ Honk honk! _

The ridiculous horn of Delia’s purple buggy brought Lydia back to reality as the bright-colored car rolled up to the curb. 

Robin was the first to greet Lydia’s stepmom. “Hey Mrs. Deetz!” they called out with a wave.

Delia leaned an elbow over the edge of the car window. “Robin, sweetie, just call me Delia.”

“I guess you gotta go after all,” Robin said to Lydia, pushing themself off the tree. “But I’ll see you back here tonight. Photography room, right?”

Lydia was still stuck in some kind of daze, but she had enough sense to fake a smile and reply, “Yeah.”

“Great, see ya then.” They gave her arm a small pat before waving at Delia again. “Bye Delia!” With that, they put their shark head back on and ran through the gates toward the field.

_‘One of the best friends I’ve ever had.’_ Their words replayed in her head like a tragically out-of-date record. While she wasn't thrilled, she also couldn’t bring herself to feel sad about it. If she had anyone to blame, it would be herself. After all, if it weren’t for her reflexive panic at the golf course, the dance could have been her first ever real date.

Alas, she caught feelings too late, and now she was ‘one of the best friends’ they’d ever had.

That’s fine. Everything is _fine._

At least that’s what she told herself while she trudged up to Delia’s car and flung the door open.

Delia didn’t need to be a life coach to tell something was up by the way Lydia slumped into the front seat. “Did you wanna stay?” she offered, wondering if Lydia would rather hang out with her friends. “I can see if the other parents need help–”

“Can we just go?” Lydia insisted. It sounded more like a demand than a question.

Delia narrowed her eyes at her stepdaughter. “Everything okay?”

Lydia sighed hard through her nose. “My head hurts.”

Sure. Her _head._

* * *

And her head continued to hurt all the way up until that evening when the whole gang was putting the finishing touches on their outfits in Kim’s classroom. And by the whole gang, that really just meant Jasmine.

“Welcome one and all to the Jazziest Casino in all of Connecticut!” Jasmine proclaimed from atop a table.

“Said no one ever,” drawled Brady. He and his girlfriend Chantal were standing off to the side, decked out in black and white in a way that made them look like an abstract geometric painting. Needless to say everyone stuck to the theme lest Jasmine ring their necks. Lydia even went the extra mile and had Beetlejuice snag a genuine black flapper get-up from the Netherworld. She didn’t ask any further questions about it, but she made sure to have it dry cleaned in case there were any lingering traces of Polio on it.

Jasmine finally revealed the specific color scheming to be based around game pieces in the casino. She herself took a feminine spin of what would normally be a masculine outfit back in the ‘20s with a classy tailcoat over a skirt-and-suspenders ensemble. Brady and his girlfriend were supposed to be a pair of dice, as indicated by the shiny necklaces Jasmine loaned them, while everyone else was a poker chip, symbolized by either pins or bracelets. Lydia still had yet to get hers because, as aforementioned, she was nursing a ‘head’ ache the best way she knew how: sulking about it.

The world wasn’t ending. She’d experienced far worse grievances in her life. How could she even call this a grievance? Robin didn’t disown her as a companion; it was quite the opposite. However, she felt like she was stuck in how they saw her, and that didn’t sit well with her at all. It was the only thing she could think about since it happened like she was trapped in some never-ending loop of friendship and dead ends.

_ Is this what the friend zone feels like? _

Amidst Lydia’s brooding, Jasmine slid into the chair in front of her and leaned her forearms onto the table. She could tell from one look at Lydia that something was up. Her moodiness was more severe than usual. “Where’s your high school heart-throb?” she asked, looking around the room.

Lydia didn’t know the answer. She hadn’t checked her texts to see if Robin was on their way. Instead, she voiced her current predicament. “I think I got friend-zoned.”

“Ouch,” Jazmine winced.

“But maybe I friend-zoned them first,” Lydia wondered aloud, propping her chin up in her palm. That’s where she started to lose Jasmine, who didn’t have the context of the golf course incident.

“Huh?”

“What even is the friend zone anyway?”

“If you say ‘friend zone’ one more time, I’m telling Kim you spit on a lens.” At Jasmine’s threat, Lydia looked utterly appalled at the mere thought. She furrowed her brow in offense but kept her mouth shut as her friend went on. “And honestly Lyds, I don’t really know what is going on in that dark and scary mind of yours, but I can tell you facts.”

“I like facts,” Lydia mumbled childishly into her hand. “Tell me facts.”

“The way I see it, Robin had three options for tonight,” Jasmine began, using her expertly done nails to recite her list. “Number 1: They could have gone to some big house party and pre-gamed with the social bourgeoisie of Southern High.”

Lydia grimaced. “Fuck the social bourgeoisie.”

“Good response,” Jasmine agreed with a bored expression. “Number 2: They could save the time, effort, and money of attending a high school dance. Stay at home, relax, watch Netflix until their eyes fall out.”

“Gnarly visual.” 

“I know. I think I’m spending too much time with you.”

Lydia lightly slapped her arm from across the table, but a grin betrayed any attempt at teen angst. 

“Which brings me to option Number 3,” Jasmine announced proudly. “They slum it out with the photography club despite having no photographic interest whatsoever.” She walked around the table and adjusted Lydia’s headband so it hid less of her face. “I think their interest in coming here has everything to do with the pretty girl that asked them.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes suspiciously at her uncharacteristically romantic friend. “Why are you all supportive? I recall you threatening to ‘slap me back into being a blonde’ if I started liking Robin.”

“That was before I watched you lose all basic human function,” Jasmine stated rather bluntly. “I’m sure your favor is well placed.”

“Thanks?” Lydia glanced about the room, once again noticing everyone else’s casino-themed accessories. Jasmine had yet to give her a poker chip ornament. “You got a black chip for me somewhere in your magic hat?”

Jasmine pulled her top hat off with a smug grin and pulled out, not a poker chip, but a deck of cards. “Nope, pick a card,” she instructed, spreading the cards in a fan.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Lemme guess, queen of spades?”

“Even if I could predict exactly what card you’d pick,” she began innocently even though Lydia knew damn well Jasmine had full knowledge of how this trick would play out. “This deck is still missing the queen of spades after it jumped into someone's camera bag.”

Lydia remembered that card. She thought it was wilted and torn up in Robin’s dry cleaning at this point.

Playing along, Lydia picked a card and almost turned it over until Jasmine pushed the card’s face down. “Don’t look at it yet!”

“What’s the point of your trick then?”

“Trust me, the real trick has yet to come.” Jasmine’s eyes flickered between Lydia and the door behind her, an eager smirk on her face. Lydia looked over her shoulder to see her plus-one standing in the doorway looking just shy of lost. As promised, they wore a fitted red tailcoat with a bow tie to match. Lydia had gotten used to seeing Robin in formalwear every time they had an away game, but this was an entirely different level. They weren’t dressed up for a soccer game. They were dressed for a dance that she invited them to. They were dressed for her.

Jasmine gave her a little push in the back and whispered, “Go get ‘em”

With measured steps, Lydia ambled over to the door. Robin was searching the room until their eyes landed on her. The corner of their mouth curled upward in a smile that was less bright than usual and yet still more meaningful, more amazed.

Lydia made a mental note to thank Beetlejuice for the dress.

“Hey,” she said softly once she was in front of them.

“Wow,” they breathed out, and Lydia fought to suppress a laugh at the dazed look in their eye. They quickly amended their expression and stammered out, “I mean–Hey, er sorry, it’s just–” A small giggle rumbled in Lydia’s throat while Robin cleared theirs. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks,” she chortled, brushing a cotton fuzz off of their shoulder. “You’re looking like a pretty dapper egg yourself. You could give Gatsby a run for his money.”

“High praise, being compared to the king of parties and perpetual isolation,” they joked before sucking in an uneasy breath. “I hope my story ends a little better than his.”

Lydia’s temporary composure faltered briefly. She didn’t think they could get any better, but she was sorely mistaken. They _read_.

_Maybe they’ve just seen the movie,_ she rebuffed herself, trying to maintain a normal heart rate.

Robin pulled a small clear box from behind their back and held it delicately in their hands. Lydia could already see the black roses and quirked an eyebrow at Robin as they began awkwardly, “Um, I know you said ‘no corsage’, but I kinda had this idea, and I just had to go with it.” 

When they opened the box and pulled out the adornment, there were indeed a couple of black roses, but instead of being embedded within excessive ribbons and fake leaves, the base of the corsage was a playing card. More specifically, the queen of spades.

_So that’s where it went,_ Lydia thought in amusement.

“You see, about a month ago,” they explained, keeping their focus set on the corsage and scratching their neck sheepishly. “I gave my coat to this photographer who was wildly underdressed to attend a high school soccer game.”

“How dare she.” Lydia held out her arm, silently giving them permission to tie it around her wrist. Their face seemed to light up at that small affirmation, and they continued their story while securing the corsage to her wrist with deft fingers.

“I found a single playing card in my pocket when I got the jacket back. Being the paranoid person I am, the first thing I did was google the significance of the queen of spades in case there was some kind of hidden message. I’ll admit being given a card from the suit of death is less than comforting.”

“Yikes, sounds like this chick’s a psychopath.”

“Hey now, I wasn’t done with my story.” They finished tying the corsage and stuck their hands in their pockets. “From what I read, the queen of spades is a woman who is practical and logical, creative and intellectual–” They cut themselves off, looking up in thought. “The intellectual part is debatable.”

Lydia playfully punched them in the chest. She’d heard the metaphor enough times to know that she was the queen of spades.

“Bottom line, I took the card as a positive sign,” they concluded with a chuckle, hitching their chin towards the back of the room where Jasmine was standing with the others. “And then I asked Jasmine for some help ‘cause she’s an expert with cards and made it into a card-sage.” Lydia glared at them, all signs of being impressed vanishing. For the first time, Robin conceded, “I know, not my best pun.”

Lydia was about to give a snarky retort when she remembered she was still holding a playing card of her own. Glancing down at the card in her hands, she caught the view of a red jack, but not the one she was used to seeing. It was a jack of hearts.

“That sneaky bitch,” Lydia murmured, looking over her shoulder. Jasmine really made Robin’s card-themed corsage and had the nerve to play dumb all week.

Robin just barely heard her. “What?”

“You got your pride pin on you?” Lydia redirected quickly, an idea popping into her head. Jasmine dealt the cards. Now it was Lydia’s turn to play the hand.

“Always,” Robin said, pulling back their lapel to reveal their trademark nonbinary flag pinned to their suspenders. Lydia took the liberty of taking it out before sticking it through the lapel, this time holding the jack of hearts just beside the collar. She tried not to think about how close they were lest her face turn as red as their jacket.

“Jack of hearts?” they mused curiously, keeping still to let Lydia do as she pleased. “Is the J another Gatsby reference?”

Lydia rolled her eyes to cover up the hint of enjoyment she got from the literary prattle. “You once said you feel things very strongly,” she recalled, thinking up an explanation on the fly. “I still think you’re just a crybaby.”

“Rude.”

“But what better suit of emotion than hearts?” Lydia ignored their comment as she finished fixing the pin on their jacket. Then, she took a step back and assumed her characteristic indifference. “Take it or leave it. That’s the closest to a button-knee that you’re gonna get.”

“Boutonniere?” they corrected with a smirk.

“Gesundheit.”

“Why are there people in the doorway?” complained the incredibly annoyed voice of Kim. “Doorways are not meant to be stood in.”

Kim shoved past Robin, who inadvertently stumbled into Lydia. The force would have knocked Lydia right off her feet if Robin hadn’t hurried to wrap an arm around her waist and keep her upright.

“You okay?” they checked, removing their arm once Lydia had regained her balance.

She hesitated, still feeling the ghost of their hand on the small of her back. “Yeah,” she coughed out once her brain started working again.

“Kim, I said 1920s.” Lydia whipped around at the sound of Jasmine scolding their photography teacher. Kim was a chaperone for the dance, and Jasmine had insisted she stick with the theme. However, she separated herself from everyone else in the room by dressing in 90s grunge.

“There are certain decades I refuse to wear clothes from,” Kim drawled monotonously, trudging over to the studio in the back of the room. “The 1920s is one of them.”

Jasmine decided not to argue with their ever-unenthusiastic teacher and turned her attention on the pair still standing by the door. “Lydia, Goldstar, get your asses over here! It’s picture time!”

Not wanting to piss off Jasmine any more, Lydia and Robin promptly joined the rest of the photography club in the back for pictures. While most of their classmates were out taking photos in the mediocre evening lighting while getting a mild spritzing from a nearby river in the background, they had a professional photographer in a half-professional studio taking their pre-dance photos for free.

“Alright Photo Club, look alive,” Kim ordered while her disciples fell into a giant huddle in front of the camera, straightening their outfits and arranging themselves in a presentable order. Robin stopped just short of getting into view of the camera, assuming Kim’s address of her club didn’t include them. However, Kim just glared at them standing stiffly off to the side.

“You waiting for a formal invitation?” she inquired pointedly.

Robin did a double-take before realizing Kim was talking to them. They shook their head and said dismissively, “I’m not in the club. I’m just a friend of Lydia’s.”

Kim paused, her face scrunched up in confusion. “Lydia has friends?”

“I’m literally right here!” Lydia called out from the front of the group photo.

Kim waved a hand flippantly, dropping the baffling fact for now. “Whoever you are, stop looking like a Men’s Warehouse mannequin and get in the picture.”

Robin looked insulted for about two seconds before shrugging in agreement and walking into the picture. The back row shifted down to make room for Robin on the edge, Brady wrapping a chummy arm around their shoulders to pull them in further (Lydia still didn’t get how it escaped her notice that Robin knew most of her friends). Robin wound up right behind Lydia, who chanced a curious look at them right before the picture. 

Kim put her face right against the back of the camera and announced pessimistically, “Alright, say illegal gambling!”

“Illegal gambling!”

A few blinding flashes of light later, and Kim did what every good photographer does: outtakes. 

“Weird picture in three, two...,” she counted down as everyone jumped into a weird pose or made a funny face. Lydia did the first thing that came to mind, but before Kim could take the picture, she had to offer commentary.

“Don’t do that with your tongue, Brady, it’s unattractive. Adri, stop before you hurt yourself. Lydia, put your fingers down. This is why you have no friends.”

Lydia had been staring into the camera with a dead expression with both middle fingers up at her sides, and she had no intention of changing it. Unfortunately for her, she invited Mx. Goldstar, who reached around from behind her and shielded her flipped birds from the camera. She was filled with enough spite to combat the giddiness from them being so close behind her.

“Just had to be the hero, huh?” she muttered bitterly, just loud enough so they could hear. “You are a goody-two-shoes.”

“You say something?” they asked after a pause where Kim had started snapping the funny pictures. “Couldn’t hear you from up here.”

Lydia bit back a whole slew of exotic curses Beetlejuice taught her and looked up at Robin, whose head was directly above hers. “That’s how you wanna play?” she challenged, and Robin flicked their eyebrows as if to say ‘your move’. Lydia waited until after Kim had finished with their round of photos and the huddle disbanded. 

“Okay, fine. Hey Jasmine–” Lydia's voice went up an octave, as it does when she pretends to be inoffensive. “Are we doing smaller group photos?”

“Duh, it's a photography club.”

“Great, face cards wanna go first.”

Sensing the mischief in her tone, everyone else cleared from the space in front of the white backdrop. Robin stayed where they were, expecting a normal dynamic duo picture until Lydia disappeared behind the white sheet. When she returned a moment later, she was holding a big wooden block that would normally be used as a podium for staged photos. She set the box down next to Robin with a grunt of effort before ceremoniously standing on top of it. Now, with at least a half-foot advantage over Robin, she proudly put her hands on her hips and basked in her artificial height… 

And then Robin kicked the box.

Not hard, and they were far from using their full strength, but they gave the block a little more than a toe-poke, which was enough to throw Lydia off her balance. Before she could fall, she grabbed their shoulder for stability and shot them a death glare. 

“If I fall, I’m taking you down with me,” she glowered threateningly. She found it a lot less difficult to dismiss the gross feelings when they made it so easy to be annoyed. 

After that, no more shots were fired save for Lydia’s final decision to prop her elbow up on Robin’s head. They rolled with it, and Kim was about to take the picture when she paused.

“Yo Manny,” Kim barked at Robin, abbreviating her earlier comment about their appearance. “You wanna look at the camera?”

Lydia was looking straight ahead, so she hadn’t seen where Robin was looking. However, she did feel their head shift under her arm, and a small part of her mind had to wonder why it seemed as though they were looking in _her_ direction.

_ This is going to be one interesting night. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is so much fun to write Lydia being a gay idiot for 7k words, let me tell you XD. This chapter was originally supposed to be the dance, but things kinda got away from me and now homecoming is being split into two chapters: this one and the next. As for the dance, just know that it is going to be far from your conventional high school dance scene. As my theatre teacher always said: Good stories are when bad things happen to interesting people.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Have a wonderful day! - Jojo, who is inexplicably tired rn, I don't get it I sleep A LOT!


	8. More Like The 20s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Homecoming Dance! Time for the perfect night everyone has been waiting for...except perfect is boring. Things are more interesting when bad things happen, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Teen alcohol use (I swear there's a point to it)

Once everyone had taken photos in their desired grouplets and went over the rotation schedule for photographer positions, it was time to head to the gym for the actual dance. The halls were covered in all kinds of decade-themed decorations that were ‘donated’ from the scraps of the parade floats. Students dressed in all kinds of dated formal wear were pouring into the gym. From 80s disco freaks to 50s pink ladies, they all eagerly stood in line for the dance. To the photography club, that line meant absolutely nothing. They were shooting for the dance, so they got in first and they got in for free. 

“You do remember I’m not actually in the photography club, right?” Robin mentioned, slowing down just a tad as they neared the front. Lydia rolled her eyes at the rule-follower.

“They don’t know that, just don’t tell them,” she advised, grabbing their hand and dragging them back to the rest of the group. They let themself be tugged along to the front of the line where a table of teachers sat. They were checking tickets and student ID’s before granting kids entrance to the poorly air-conditioned gymnasium. Jasmine collected her group’s ID’s prior to leaving the photography room (she was nothing if not efficient) and handed them to the teachers. After they were checked in and allowed into the gym, Jasmine handed everyone back their IDs. In addition to her own, Jasmine also gave Lydia Robin’s ID, a sleight of hand that did not go unnoticed. Lydia was about to hand the ID to Robin when a small detail on the card caught her attention.

_ Stephanie J. Robinson. _

“What’s the J stand for?” she asked.

“Jack of hearts, duh,” Robin snorted sarcastically, heading towards the refreshments table. Lydia followed along, still led by curiosity.

“For real though,” she insisted while they poured themself a cup of punch.

“Oh no,” they drew out. “It’s bad enough that you know my first name. I’m not giving you the satisfaction of knowing my middle name.”

“Mean.”

“It’s called damage control, Lyds.” 

Lydia narrowed her eyes at them, the suspense eating away at her brain. In an attempt to make them share the forbidden name, she offered, “My middle name starts with E.”

“Your initials are L.E.D.?” they asked after taking a long sip of their drink. Lydia nodded, and Robin paused in consideration. “Sounds like you were destined for a bright future.”

“Shut up.” Lydia elbowed them in the side, and she switched to plan B: guessing. “Janice?”

“Nope.”

“Josephine.”

“Nah ah.”

“Jacqueline.”

“I wish,” they chuckled, downing the rest of their punch. “Card jokes aside, Jack would be a much cooler nickname than a friggin’ songbird.”

Lydia tilted her head at that. They could have picked their preferred name to be anything, but there was a level of convenience in choosing one derived from their own name. She didn’t know if it was her ‘feelings’ or her own personal connection to birds, but she shrugged and commented, “I think birds are cool.”

They quirked an eyebrow at her. “Seriously?” 

“Sure,” she affirmed, a familiar voice in the back of her mind sweetly saying ‘Little Bird’ over and over again. To avoid diving further down that rabbit hole, she added jokingly, “Aren’t they the closest relatives to dinosaurs or something?”

“I see someone is actually paying attention in biology.”

Their casual conversation was cut short when Adrienne tracked them down. She pulled them away from the refreshment table and towards the dance floor.

“Are you losers just gonna stand here or are we gonna dance?!”

* * *

Here’s something not many people know: Lydia loves to dance.

Whether it was with her mother in the old house in New York or with Beetlejuice and his clones, Lydia was always happy to move around while singing along to a variety of music. The dance floor in the gym was cramped and musky, and the music was unnecessarily loud, but dancing was dancing.

Time seemed to fly as one song turned into ten. Lydia barely knew the lyrics, only remembering the tunes from the occasional run on the radio, but that didn’t make it any less fun. Still, Lydia got a kick out of watching Jasmine recite every word flawlessly. While it made her feel a little ‘out of it’, she found comfort when she turned to Robin and they shrugged, just as clueless as she was.

After what became close to an hour on the dance floor, Lydia and her friends took a slow song as the perfect opportunity to take a break. They retired to one of the several tables set out for resting students. Much to everyone’s surprise, Zachary actually mustered up the courage to ask Adrienne to a dance. Even more shocking was the fact that she said yes and hauled him back to the dance floor. Brady and Chantel were M.I.A., and Jamie was currently on photo booth duty. That left Lydia, Robin, and Jasmine alone at the table.

And Jasmine was ready to change that real fast.

“I’m gonna go check on the photo booth,” she announced, pushing in the chair she had originally pulled out for herself. “Make sure nothing’s broken yet.”

Her tone alluded to an ulterior motive, as did the gentle touch to Lydia’s shoulder. It wasn’t until Jasmine had actually left, and Robin stretched their arms over their head with an exasperated sigh that Lydia realized she was alone with them.

Funny how that kept happening.

“Damn, I’m exhausted,” Robin declared, wiping away the gleam of sweat from their brow.

“In a good way?” Lydia asked hopefully.

“Oh, hell yeah,” they quickly amended, gesturing around the gymnasium. “I’m glad you dragged my sorry ass out here tonight.”

Lydia tilted her head curiously. She found it hard to believe a high school royal of their caliber would spend their last homecoming at home. “Were you really not gonna come at all? What about all your soccer friends?”

“You mean the mildly intoxicated girls in the grind circle?” they corrected with a disdainful snort.

“The what?”

Robin pointed over their shoulder without even looking, and Lydia followed their finger to a large mass in the center of the dance floor. A bunch of teens stood in a circle, girls on the inside grinding back against their dates on the outside. Even with a slow song, it looked like an appalling ritual of raging hormones and a lack of sexual restraint.

“They think that’s fun?” Lydia nearly choked on the question. She hadn’t gone to any dances at her last school, either due to a lack of interest or family tragedy, so she had yet to witness what actually goes down at these events. “Do they just stay like that the whole time?”

“Not the whole time,” Robin noted with disinterest, swirling their punch in a solo cup. “Sometimes they switch partners.”

Lydia whipped around to glare at Robin in incredulity. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

“Gross.”

“That’s high school.” They downed the rest of their punch before turning in their chair to face Lydia. She had gone back to looking at the grind circle in utter disgust, so Robin reached out and lightly touched her fingers on the table. Lydia’s attention went straight back to Robin’s sincere eyes. “But like I always say: Stop worrying about them. I didn’t come to this dance to talk about my teammates.”

Robin pulled their hand back, a lazy smile sliding onto their face. Lydia couldn’t say if it was because they asked, or if it was the ghost of their fingers on hers, but the thought of the guys and gals on the dance floor totally fled her mind. Instead, she was back in the moment with Robin, someone she was growing increasingly comfortable around.

And that didn’t scare her as much anymore.

“So, what do you wanna talk about?” she asked, and they gave her a peculiar look. Admittedly, it was a weird question, and one she’d never had to ask before. They seldom ran out of things to talk about, but she was giving Robin control over the conversation, also something she seldom did. Robin seemed at a loss for words, and Lydia’s patient gaze drove them to look at their twiddling thumbs after an awkwardly long pause. If Lydia didn’t know any better, she’d say Robin was the one with confusing feelings.

She would have killed to know what was going through their head.

Before Robin could get another word out, someone dropped a camera on the table in front of Lydia.

“Your turn to go on the prowl, Lydia,” declared one Brady, releasing the neck strap of the camera as he stood behind Lydia’s chair. ‘Prowl’ was what they called the floating camera, the person who walked around the gym and took random photos for the yearbook. Lydia almost forgot that she’d actually have to honor her commitment to the photography club. Could you blame her? She was preoccupied.

Lydia forced a tight-lipped smile onto her face. If she wasn’t annoyed by Brady’s lack of regard for the camera’s safety, she was certainly cross for his untimely interruption. “Do I have to?” she asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“Yes, it’s your turn,” Brady reminded her, almost offended she’d have to ask. He clearly wasn’t good at reading a situation. “I gotta dance with Chantel before she gets fussy.”

“What a gentleman,” Lydia said monotonously before sighing out her frustration in a quick sigh. She stood up from her chair and gave Robin an apologetic smirk. “I guess I’m off to go take pictures of walls for the next twenty minutes.”

Robin had apparently zoned out at their hands, and they shook their head to regain focus at the sound of Lydia’s voice. “Right,” they agreed, standing up and clearing their throat. “I’m gonna make some rounds, see how some of my friends from class are doing.”

Lydia acquired a mischievous glint in her eye. “You have friends?”

“I do,” they rebuffed, shoving their hands in their pockets and puffing their chest out. “Unlike some people, I don’t give the one-finger salute with both hands.”

Lydia gave their arm a shove as they started to walk off, laughing at the futile attempt to get back at them for the comment. They even wobbled just a little to humor her. Lydia stared at the back of their bright red coat until she remembered she had an audience.

“Oh!” Brady exclaimed once Robin was out of earshot. Lydia’s grin fell into an irritated grimace. He was looking between Robin and Lydia, an open smile slowly breaking onto his face. It was painfully obvious what conclusion he was coming to.

“Don’t say a word,” Lydia interjected before he could voice whatever was on his mind. He failed to suppress a cackle and put his hands on his hips, looking her up and down.

“Ya know,” he remarked, ignoring her prior demand. “I always got a vibe from you.”

“Go dance with your girlfriend before I kick your knee caps backward!”

That threat came in utmost earnest, and Brady’s jovial expression sunk into pure fear before he skittered off. That made Lydia feel better. 

Sometimes, it paid to be the scary friend.

* * *

A half-hour later found Robin returning to the refreshment table for another cup of the punch. All the dancing and walking around had made them thirsty. Well, that, and the undeniable fact that they had a bundle of nerves sitting in their chest the whole night. They were a professional at keeping face under pressure, but putting themself right into that pressure was little more of a task to undertake.

Which is why they were at the punch table and not actively seeking out ‘pressure’.

That was, of course, until pressure found them in the form of Jasmine sneaking up right next to them with the fiercest of disapproving glares. They jumped once she was in view and took a deep breath to calm the sudden spike in their heart rate. Then, they narrowed their eyes at Jasmine’s bizarre mood.

“What’s that look for?” they asked, sipping at their punch.

“You need to do better,” Jasmine stated rather bluntly.

“Beg your pardon?” 

“Ew, no one our age says that.”

Robin rolled their eyes, rephrasing their question. “What are you talking about?”

“Sorry to break it to you, Goldstar,” she began, pointing to their position against the table. “But sitting in the corner and waiting for Lydia to come to you isn’t going to work.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Robin replied calmly. 

Jasmine was clearly not convinced. “You don’t? You do remember I made the card corsage you gave to Lydia, right?”

“It’s just an inside joke.”

“So you haven’t been flirting with Lydia right in front of my face every morning for the last month and a half?”

“She has an unsubmitted late pass.”

“Bullshit,” Jasmine countered, making Robin turn an offended glare on her. “If Ms. Kenny actually knew about the _one_ time Lydia was late to class, she would have called her parents by now.” At that, Robin had to abandon their automatic excuse and opt to look down at their hands instead. While they weren’t close, Robin had known Jasmine for a long time, and they knew she wouldn’t drop the matter unless she got the information she wanted. Information was her whole shtick, after all. 

“So,” she prodded when Robin didn’t immediately deny her again. “You wanna own up to makin’ up a dumb excuse so you could see Lydia every day?”

Robin worried their lower lip between their teeth, staring off to the side to avoid Jasmine’s patronizing gaze. After a long, stubborn pause, they reluctantly confessed. “...It wasn’t like that at first.”

“I’m sure,” Jasmine snorted. 

“So what now?” Robin took up an accusatory tone. “You gonna tell me to 'stay away from your best friend' or something?”

“Hell no, what kind of overrated high school rom-com do you think this is?” Jasmine rebuffed incredulously. “I’m motivating you to make more of an effort. Lydia’s small, she can’t do all the heavy lifting.”

Robin shot her a confused look over the rim of their solo cup. “What ‘heavy lifting’? There is no way she…” They trailed off, making a vague gesture with their free hand. As eloquent as they were, words seemed to fail them temporarily. “Returns the sentiment.”

Jasmine delicately put a flat hand to her brow in utter disbelief. She felt like she was leading the blind. How did her best friend manage to catch feelings for someone just as stupid as she was?

No time to ponder that stroke of luck. Jasmine clearly had a ball to set in motion.

“I don’t know what delusions made you think that, but I know you ain’t gonna know for sure unless you make a move, so chug that drink–” Jasmine pushed the bottom of Robin’s cup upward, forcing them to down the rest of its contents in a split second lest they stain their white shirt. “–and move your ass, preferably in that direction.” 

She punctuated her sentence with a less-than-gentle shove away from the table they were leaning against. Robin stumbled forward, barely catching themself on their own feet after Jasmine’s rather abrupt ‘encouragement’. They pulled their jacket taught over their frame and sent Jasmine a small, apprehensive look over their shoulder. Jasmine watched their shoulders heave with a deep breath before they walked off.

“Lord, help them both,” she muttered under her breath.

* * *

The yearbook committee never gave the photography club any help when it came to shooting school events. ‘Just take pictures of everything’, they always said, much to the photographers' utter disgruntlement. Don’t get them wrong, creative freedom was great, but when it came to events like school dances, they would much rather be given a list of specific things to shoot so they could get it done and enjoy the night.

Lydia took this particular feeling to heart as she neared the end of her prowl run. It was almost cruel, enlisting students to take pictures of other students having fun. Before she packed the camera away in the photo booth, she took a moment to click through the pictures she took to make sure she didn’t take any that were absolutely ruined by blur or glare. She didn’t find too many errors. Just a bunch of kids hanging out with their friends or dancing with their dates.

She wasn’t jealous. She _couldn’t_ be jealous when she didn’t actually have a date.

“Get any good shots?”

Lydia glanced over her shoulder to see none other than Robin leaning against the wall with a lazy grin on their face. She smirked and looked back down at the equipment she was packing up.

“Nothing but cheap decorations and weird candids,” she answered dismissively, turning around and leaning back against the table. The corner of the gym that had been transformed into a designated photo booth was vacant save for the two of them. There was supposed to be someone manning the booth, but this late in the dance, no one was lining up for pictures anymore. 

“How about you?” She hitched her chin at Robin. “Getting any entertainment from this experience?”

Their head lulled against the wall as they scanned the rowdy gym. “I am enjoying myself, yes.”

Lydia tried to suppress the chuckle rumbling in her throat. Their mellow demeanor greatly contrasted the mood of the room. “You sure? You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

“Just a tad tired.” They pinched their thumb and forefinger together. “Trying to keep up with you on the dancefloor is more cardio than I do in a week.” 

“You’re not throwing in the towel already, are you?” Lydia teased.

“‘Course not,” they retorted, returning her challenging gaze. “In fact, I may have exploited my student MC status to get a favor from the DJ.”

“And what was that?” 

Robin pushed off the wall and turned to the front of the room, where the DJ was managing the music and taking requests. They raised a hand in the air and waved a few times, and the DJ seemed to get the message. He immediately transitioned whatever party song that was currently playing into a slow and steady, smooth jazz song.

Lydia tried not to jump to conclusions. Slow music could mean anything. But then Robin offered her their hand to take, and she really struggled to hide her smile.

They cleared their throat in an over-the-top fashion. “Lydia Elenor Deetz–”

“Not even close."

“Will you do me the honor of granting me this one dance?”

Lydia took a moment before answering, her eyes flickering between Robin’s hand and face. It wasn’t that she was deciding whether or not to accept. She was trying to figure out exactly what she was going to say without sounding like a ditz.

“Sure, cool.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she mentally facepalmed.

Though Robin didn’t seem to care. After Lydia put her hand in theirs, they only seemed elated she agreed rather than perplexed by her lack of eloquence. 

“Not gonna lie,” they began as the pair started to make their way back to the dance floor. “I don’t actually know how to slow dance.”

“You work in a country club with a ballroom and you’ve never learned how to slow dance?” Lydia’s brain was a little fuzzy, so her default response was snarkiness. To be fair, Robin was still holding her hand.

“I man the ropes and sneak the food when no ones looking,” they retorted defensively. “It’s not exactly a requirement for employees to be able to dance.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not rocket science,” Lydia consoled them after they found a space for themselves. Lydia herself had never actually slow danced save for the few times she did so standing on her mother’s feet. However, there were a few nights back in New York when Lydia couldn’t sleep due to the gentle rhythm of music from the kitchen. Restless and curious, she would always sneak downstairs and peer into the kitchen. Hidden by the shadows of the hallway, she watched her parents slowly rock to the music. They’d always be enclosed in a deep, loving embrace, but Lydia could translate that into an awkward high school not-date. 

At least, she hoped she could.

“Just, ya know, move your hands…” Lydia grabbed their other wrist and guided their hands around her waist. Then, she put her hands on their shoulders. It was hard not to notice just how close they were standing, but Lydia kept telling herself that was just how dancing was done as she stared straight into Robin’s brown eyes. “And sway to the music.”

“That simple, huh?”

“Pretty much,” she answered as they started moving along with the soft jazz. “Just don’t step on my feet, and we’re good.”

They snickered through their crooked smirk, and the two fell into a comfortably uncomfortable silence. Lydia spent a brief second wondering why Robin asked her to dance, but her paranoid side was quickly shut down by the simple enjoyment of the moment. If it was any consolation, Robin seemed just as nervous, if not more, than she was. They’d occasionally break eye-contact with a sheepish grin, choosing instead to look forward and over Lydia’s head. For a split second, there was just enough normal lighting in the room that Lydia could see a rosy tint crawling up their neck. 

“Dude, are you blushing?” She quirked a brow at them before pressing the back of her hand against their cheek. Sure enough, their skin was burning under her fingers.

Robin pulled their head away from her hand without changing the proximity of their dance. “Shut up,” they said through gritted teeth.

“ _You_ asked _me_ to dance, and you’re the one turning red.” Lydia couldn’t help herself. Messing with them only made them more flustered, an undeniably adorable side of them.

Robin took a deep breath before admitting, “In my defense, I didn’t think I would get this far.”

Lydia tilted her head curiously. “You thought I’d say no to a dance?”

“More like I didn’t even think I’d get the question out.” They tried to hide the confession in a bashful laugh that faded into a sigh. One look at Lydia and they could tell she was struggling to contain an amused smile. “Yes, I am a big wuss, feel free to rub it in my face.”

“No, no, it’s cute,” Lydia said quickly, far too quickly. So quick she didn’t even have control on saying it. Thankfully, the forward comment didn’t deter Robin in any way, so Lydia relaxed back into the rhythmic swaying.

A little more than halfway through the song, Robin seemed to kick a foot against their own ankle, making them stumble to the side.

“Looks like you got two left feet, soccer champ,” Lydia jested, though the look on Robin’s face was less than amused. They even looked dazed.

“Hey, you okay?” Lydia asked, concern overwhelming all previous jovial feelings.

“Yeah, I just got really dizzy,” they chuckled dismissively, though Lydia wasn’t altogether convinced. “I’m fine, just–”

They stutter-stepped again, and this time Lydia’s hands shot to their arms. She wasn’t sure just how much she actually prevented them from falling, but she definitely felt like she was supporting at least a fraction of their weight. That alone was enough for Lydia to say this dance was over. 

“Woah, okay,” she said with a nervous smile. “Why don’t we go take a seat?”

“No, Lydia I’m–” Their quick objection was interrupted by yet another loss of balance, and this time Lydia had to actively pull them back up into an upright position. Finally, Robin nodded along. “Never mind. You’re right. Let’s go.”

The walk back to the table wasn’t impossible, but it certainly wasn’t easy. Robin’s sense of balance was definitely off. By what, they had yet to figure out. When they got to the table, Robin all but collapsed into the chair. Lydia noticed that what she originally thought was an innocent blush had turned Robin’s face a poignant, blotchy shade of red.

“Jesus,” Lydia swore under her breath, putting her hand against their blazing forehead. “Did you catch the flu in the last five minutes?”

“I dunno,” they grumbled, blinking their eyes against the light. “Is the room spinning?”

“Wow, okay.” To say Lydia was unprepared for this situation was an understatement. No where in any overplayed high school dance movie her babysitters always made her watch did someone randomly catch the plague. She had to think on her feet, for just standing there wasn’t going to help anyone. “Stay right here, I’m gonna go get you something to drink.”

“‘M not movin’,” they mumbled putting their head down on the table. The action made a loud thud, and Lydia winced, debating for a moment if she needed to do anything about it. She had bigger fish to fry for the moment. 

_One problem at a time,_ she told herself.

Lydia left Robin with a quick pat on the shoulder before making a beeline for the snack table. Once she was there, Jasmine intercepted her and quickly picked up on her anxious nature.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, but Robin just got a fever out of nowhere,” Lydia explained, grabbing two cups to pour punch for herself and Robin. “Where’s everyone else?”

“That’s why I came to find you.” The hint of urgency in Jasmine’s voice made Lydia look up at her. “Brady’s driving Jamie home. He didn’t feel well either.”

Lydia glanced off to the side in thought. “Strange.”

“And Zach said Adri nearly fell over in the photo booth.”

“Okay, something is definitely going on,” Lydia declared before taking a sip of her punch. It tasted more sour than punch should be, and she grimaced as she swallowed. “God, this punch tastes weird.”

Jasmine’s gaze flickered between Lydia and the two drinks in her hands. “Wait a second,” she said, snagging the two cups from Lydia’s grasp. Before the latter could protest, Jasmine took a long sip from one of the cups, swirled the fluid in her mouth with a critical expression, and promptly spit it back into the cup with a gag. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“Lydia,” she stated, dumping both cups back into the punch bowl without a care. “Someone spiked the punch.”

Well, that’s  _ bad.  _

“What?!” Lydia snapped, eyes wide as saucers. 

“There is definitely something in this.” Jasmine pointed to the punch while grabbing for a bottle of water. “And Robin’s been drinking it all night.”

“Hold up, hold up.” Lydia was still trying to piece together what Jasmine was saying and all that it could mean. “You’re saying there’s–”

“Alcohol.”

“In the–”

“The punch, yes.”

“And that Robin’s–”

“Drunk off their ass.”

Oh yeah, that’s bad. That’s really, _really_ bad _._

“Okay, okay, okay,” Lydia rambled, shuffling her feet anxiously. Demons, ghosts, and hell itself barely fazed her. People, on the other hand, have never been her strong suit. Less so accidentally intoxicated people. “This is fine, this is just–”

The frantic fidgeting of her feet made her toe poke into something hard and heavy under the table. The resulting noise sounded glass and hollow, and both Jasmine and Lydia exchanged equally panicked and confused expressions. Very slowly, Lydia reached down and pulled away the edge of the table cloth that was hanging over the table. As both had expected, there were three empty bottles with uniquely cut designs and labels typed in distorted fonts.

“Is that…?” Lydia asked.

“The booze,” Jasmine answered. Lydia mindlessly reached out to grab a bottle, but Jasmine swatted her hand away. “Don’t touch it! Your fingerprints could get on it!”

Lydia held her hand to her chest, an offended look on her face. “What are we supposed to do about it then?”

“Nothing!” Jasmine’s response sounded beyond stupid to Lydia, and she made that known with her expression. Jasmine elaborated, “ _That_ is not our problem. Right now, our problem is half of our friends being drunk without them knowing.”

For just a split second, the new issue of why the punch was spiked in the first place made Lydia forget that Robin was drunk and alone at their table, and that reminder was enough to make Lydia nearly blow a fuse. 

”Woah, okay, calm down,” said Jasmine, who was well aware of Lydia’s mental state by her twitching eye and clenched fists. Jasmine put her hands on her friend’s shoulders and looked her dead in the eye. “The world isn’t ending, no one’s gonna die.”

Lydia sure as hell hoped not. The last thing she needed was Robin’s ghost haunting the school when she had the unique ability to see the dead. 

“Remember how I live a couple houses away from Robin?”

Lydia nodded. “Yeah?”

“I can drive them home. You can tag along and look after Goldstar if you think your parents would be cool with an impromptu sleepover.”

Lydia nodded again, knowing her four parents wouldn’t care much. Her father and Delia were having a date night anyway. Lord knows they won’t answer a phone call for another two hours. She only hoped Beetlejuice and the Maitlands had earmuffs.

“Fabulous.” Jasmine punctuated herself by shoving her car keys into Lydia’s hand. “I’ll go find Zach and Adri, you take the Jack of Daniels to my car, and we’ll go from there.”

Lydia only vaguely understood what was going on, but Jasmine was already leaving her. She stopped her before she would get far. “Wait, how am I supposed to tell Robin?”

“That they’re drunk?” Jasmine asked. Lydia shrugged, and Jasmine rolled her eyes before darting away from her and towards the table Robin was sitting at. Lydia practically ran to keep up with her. She made it to the table just in time to hear Jasmine slap a shoulder on Robin’s shoulder and say, “Hey dude, you’re hammered. See you in a few!”

And just as quickly as Jasmine said it, she vanished, her heeled boots clicking behind her and leaving Lydia with a mildly confused but severely dazed Robin. They turned to her for further explanation. 

“So there’s definitely something in the punch,” she began, and Robin threw their head back into their forearms. They groaned something, but it was muffled by their jacket sleeves. Lydia took a moment to glance around the room, and she could actually see the consequences of the refreshments now that she was looking for it. Some of the notably wild students were even more rowdy and obnoxious than before. Several students were approaching an early end to the night, either leaving or slumping into a chair like Robin.

_Not my problem,_ Lydia tried to remind herself. As much as she hated the way it sounded, she had to focus on getting Robin to Jasmine’s car before chaperones start noticing what she'd already figured out.

She leaned down towards Robin’s head and asked a pivotal question. “Can you stand?”

* * *

By some miracle, Lydia and Robin managed to leave the dance with little issue. Their balance was still impaired, so Lydia had to give the arm-over-shoulder thing a try. Anyone looking at them probably wouldn’t have seen the drunken struggle. They would have seen a couple leaving the dance.

_ How poetic. _

Lydia spotted Jasmine’s car in the parking lot and led Robin through the dimly lit forest of Fords and Hondas. It seemed the longer Robin was on their feet, the more likely they were to fall over. That only meant Lydia was bearing more of their weight, and Robin was a lot heavier than they looked. She dreaded the thought of what could happen if she lost her balance and they both went down.

“I know it’s hard, but could you try to walk a little straighter,” Lydia suggested in as even a tone as she could muster. Much to her surprise, Robin actually responded by alleviating some of the stress, which was a literal weight off Lydia’s shoulders. It was a real relief…

Until she realized Robin was falling in the other direction.

“Wait, don’t–!”

But it was too late. Their ankle hit the edge of a median, and they fell straight into a patch of grass with a lazy groan. Lydia watched helplessly as they rolled over and mumbled something incoherent. She vaguely made out the words “heavy lifting.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Lydia declared, kneeling down in the grass beside Robin. She was not the right person for this job. She had a track history of making poor decisions, but she was at least mature enough to admit that. The bottom line is: she should get an actual adult’s help. She held out her hand and demanded, “Gimme your phone.”

Robin pushed themself onto their elbows and looked at her hand wearily. “Why?” they wined skeptically.

“I’m calling your mom.”

Robin’s face gradually morphed into an expression of utter horror. ”Nah ah. Nope. No way.” As they protested, they rolled away from Lydia. To keep them from rolling off the edge of the median and into the street, Lydia lurched forward to grab the lapels of their jacket.

She glared down at them, patience wearing thin. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Not if you’re gonna call my mom!” they slurred like a defiant child. “She’s outta town, and she can’t know I’m…”

Lydia pinched the bridge of her nose. She had to remind herself their judgment was impaired before she got too annoyed. It wasn’t even that Robin was the problem; it was the whole night. A rollercoaster of emotions that she wanted to end without casualties.

But drunk Robin wasn’t making it easy for her.

“I think she’d understand if you accidentally drank spiked punch,” Lydia coaxed less irritably than before.

“No, not that,” they moped with a guilty pout. “She told me not to go to homecoming.”

That piqued Lydia’s interest. Why would Robin’s mother want them to miss their last homecoming? As head of PTA, wasn’t her whole thing student events?

“Why?” Lydia inquired suspiciously.

Robin flopped their head onto the ground. “Dunno.”

Lydia forgot her curiosity when she saw the pained look on Robin’s face. She could ask questions later. For now, she was still on Goldstar Duty.

“What about your dad?”

After hesitating for a long moment, Robin reluctantly lifted their hand to their pocket and clumsily fumbled for their phone. They pulled it out, tapped in their password, and handed it to Lydia with a begrudged, “Here.”

Almost too quickly, Lydia took their phone and scanned through their contacts for their dad’s number. As soon as she found it, she hit call and held the phone to her ear.

“C’mon, pick up, pick up,” Lydia mumbled, anxiously glancing around the parking lot for any straggling onlookers. It was one thing to look like you're from the 1920s. It was another thing to be pie-eyed and collapsed in a parking lot as if it actually were the 1920s.

_ “You’ve reached the number of…” _

Lydia swore under her breath as the call went to voicemail. She felt something tickling at her side and glanced down to see Robin’s fingers idly fiddling with the tassels of her dress. They probably weren’t even aware of what they were doing, and the action itself was harmless, but Lydia still gently shooed their fingers away so she could focus once the voicemail started recording.

“Hey, Mr. Robinson. This is Lydia, we met earlier this morning,” she said into the phone, throwing on a forced smile even though no one would see it. She opened her mouth to speak, but then she realized she didn’t know what she was going to say. She decided to take Jasmine’s approach: brutally honest. “To get right to the point, someone put alcohol in the punch at homecoming, and Robin had a lot. They’re fine, but Jasmine and I are driving them home ASAP, so…” She had nothing else to say, as she was sure she covered the major issue, so she ended as efficiently as possible. “Yeah, bye.”

And then she hung up with a heavy sigh. The night was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. Like it really shouldn’t be this quiet when you’re sitting next to a drunk teenager.

The silence was broken by an obnoxious jingle of keys, and the world made sense again. Lydia turned around to see Robin dangling their own car keys above their head and staring at them with eyes full of delirious wonder.

“What are you doing?” Lydia asked, suppressing a laugh.

“I have so many keys!” they exclaimed as if it were some brand new discovery. Their words were really starting to blur together, and their movements were more sluggish. After the initial amusement, Lydia noticed just how close the pointed edges of their keys were to their eyes and quickly snatched their keys away. Their child-like fascination immediately melted into a whiny pout. “Heyyy.”

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” Lydia stated bluntly, turning their keys over in her hands. Most people would take someone's keys so they don’t drive drunk. Lydia had to keep Robin from stabbing themself in the eye with their house key, or their car key, or…“Is that a lion?” Lydia asked, holding up a squishy yellow blob hanging from the key chain.

“Duh.” They pushed themself into a seated position, wobbling slightly to remain upright. With a smug grin, they jabbed a finger at the small keychain. “It means I’m big and scary.”

“Of course,” Lydia agreed, her voice dripping with sarcasm that Robin wouldn’t be able to detect in their current state. That initial conversation felt like ages ago, but in reality she really had only known Robin for less than two months. It was still fresh enough in her mind to quote. “And fluffy, right?”

They’re face screwed up into a ridiculous frown. They must’ve heard the doubt in her voice. “I’m so fluffy!” they claimed defensively.

“You’re weird, is what you are,” Lydia shot back, nudging their shoulder with her own.

“The fluffiest,” they mumbled with an absent-minded smile, staring off at the ground. A moment passed, and neither said anything. Lydia thought maybe the worst of their unpredictability was over. She could finally relax and just wait until Jasmine showed up.

That was until she heard quiet weeping.

_Oh no._ She turned towards Robin to see a deep frown etched into their features and the suspicious worsening of the red in their face. Their shoulders started shaking, and by that point, Lydia knew what was happening.

They were _crying._

That became the understatement of the year when Robin pulled their knees into their chest and started full-on sobbing. Lydia felt paralyzed by both surprise and utter uselessness, and just stared with wide eyes. She never thought that in a moment where she was babysitting a drunk senior did she ever wish so hard that she wasn’t an only child. Maybe if she grew up with a younger sibling, she’d have learned how to keep the waterworks from flowing. Even her experiences keeping Beetlejuice from a tantrum didn’t help in this situation because she couldn’t bait Robin with the promise of arson.

But another idea came to mind. Growing up, she was just as inclined to cry as the next snot-nosed brat. Her father was terrible at getting her to stop, but her mother could always calm her down like magic. It was an even mix of subtle intimacy and pure ridiculousness.

Just like her mother.

So Lydia put her mom's old plan into action. Step one was getting close, which was easier said than done. She didn’t exactly have the best history of being close to Robin without losing control of her pulse. She moved behind them and took a deep breath before wrapping her arms around their shoulders and settling her chin on their shoulder. They leaned into the hug, but it still wasn’t enough to keep them from their drunken fit. Onto phase two of her mother’s stellar technique: hum a soothing lullaby, except normal lullabies were boring and ineffectual. The trick was to pick something recognizable and laughable, so Lydia hummed the first song that came to her head.

A moment passed. Then another moment. And another… 

Robin’s sobbing faded out, replaced by a few idle sniffles. Their puffy eyes stared at Lydia out of their peripheral vision in pure confusion.

“Is that the fucking Super Mario Brothers theme song?” they warbled.

Lydia leaned away so she could actually look at them, tear-stained cheeks and all, and nodded. That was the trick. Distract them with something so crazy that they had to stop crying just to wonder what the hell was going on. “It worked, didn’t it?”

That actually coaxed a laugh out of them, and they grabbed their pocket square from their breast pocket and hastily wiped at their face. Lydia was only mildly concerned on what made them burst into tears, seeing as it could really just be the alcohol, but she had to be sure.

“Any particular reason that just happened?” she asked, grabbing one wrist with the other. Robin smirked and used their free hand to hold Lydia’s joined hands reassuringly against their chest.

“I’m fine, Lydia, just drunk in a parking lot,” they slurred. “But it could be worse.”

Lydia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “How could this get any worse?” she thought aloud.

“Well, I could be with anyone else,” they answered almost immediately, and Lydia’s eyes snapped wide open. She didn’t intend for them to hear her question, much less respond like that. Even when they were mere minutes past a booze-infused sob session, they were still smooth enough to get Lydia’s heart racing.

And that’s when Jasmine finally emerged from the darkness. Lydia quickly let go of Robin and jumped to her feet. ”We ready to go?” Jasmine asked the other two.

”Oh hey, Jasmine’s back!” Robin exclaimed in a cracking voice before adding to Lydia, “She’s my neighbor.”

”What an intelligent observation,” Jasmine griped.

Robin nodded proudly and jabbed a finger to their temple. ”Yeah, I’m smart.” Then, they unceremoniously flopped onto their back.

Lydia turned back to Jasmine and stated flatly, ”I’m gonna need help getting them to your car.” 

”Heavy lifting!” Robin whooped, pumping their fists into the air.

Lydia suppressed the urge to groan and laugh at the same time. Her friends were so unusual.

Between the two of them, Jasmine and Lydia were able to haul the wobbly-legged Robin into Jasmine’s car. To avoid any unnecessary attention from law enforcement, Jasmine drove uncharacteristically slowly (meaning she drove the speed limit), which Lydia was thankful for. She opted to sit in the back to keep a close eye on Robin, but it seemed like their fit of passion from before had sapped whatever energy they had left. The most they did was spin the card pinned to their jacket and hum the Super Mario theme.

By the time Jasmine finally pulled into the cul-de-sac she and Robin lived on, Robin might’ve been two winks away from falling asleep. Lydia gently nudged them awake while Jasmine pulled up in front of their house. They sniffed and twitched before opening their bloodshot eyes. In that moment, they looked unbelievably… _young_.

It was easy to forget a person’s age when it was so close to yours, but Robin was especially difficult to recognize as a high schooler at times. They were the kind of kid that adults would call ‘so mature for their age’ while gossiping at a neighborhood block party. They were only a few months, maybe a year older than Lydia, but she hadn’t internalized that they were both teenagers, nothing more than children. Robin had made a habit of making themself appear older with their composure and manners. However, the alcohol made them forget their put-together facade, and they just looked like the terrified little kid.

As much as Lydia hated when Robin put up that emotional wall, she also hated seeing the people she cared about in distress. Feelings aside, Robin was her friend. Whoever spiked the punch hurt her friends, and she was going to make sure they paid for it.

The trio made their way into Robin’s house–courtesy of their keys, which were still in Lydia’s possession–and Jasmine made a beeline for the kitchen. Lydia hovered in the foyer while Robin trudged over to the base of stairs using the wall for support. Lydia was watching them out of the corner of her eye.

“Hope you like dry cereal, Goldstar, ‘cause that’s gonna be your second dinner,” Jasmine called out as she started to rummage through the cabinets of the kitchen as if it were her own house. 

”I’m gonna go change first,” Robin grumbled, bracing themself against the banister of the stairs. They started up a few steps before they missed a stair. Lydia flinched when they barely caught themself on the railing. Her heart dropped, and Robin had the nerve to snicker at her reaction. “I’m fine, I promise,” they assured her with a crooked grin and a slurred tone.

“If you’re not down in ten minutes, I’m calling an ambulance.” It came out as a half-hearted laugh in a vain attempt to lighten the mood, but she was far from joking around at this point.

Robin scoffed, “Okay, Mom.” Then, they disappeared up the stairs.

Lydia’s chest ached. She didn’t know which was worse. Being friend-zoned or being dubbed the Mom friend. 

This night officially couldn’t get any worse.

Lydia wandered into the kitchen, which looked like a professional laboratory when compared to the actual cyclone-ravaged mess that was her own house’s kitchen. Jasmine was pouring a bowl of Frosted Flakes in a bowl, and Lydia sat on the counter next to where she was working.

“Well, tonight was nothing short of a disaster,” she declared, swinging her feet back and forth.

Jasmine glanced up at her and responded with genuine curiosity. “What makes you say that?”

“You do remember that half of our friends got unknowingly intoxicated, right?” Lydia shot back with an incredulous stare.

Jasmine smirked at her before moving over to the sink to fix a glass of water. “Something tells me that’s not what’s actually on your mind.”

_What else could be on my mind?_ Lydia thought to herself, screwing her face up in disbelief. This was a serious problem. Someone thought it would be funny to threaten the health of her friends. She may not have been able to prevent it, but she sure as hell can bring retribution.

Well, there was one part of that sentiment that wasn’t true. There was one case she could have prevented, and therefore, felt partially to blame for.

“I feel like it’s my fault,” Lydia sighed. Jasmine furrowed her brow and waited for her to go on. “You said it yourself. Robin probably wouldn’t have gone if it weren’t for me, and maybe–”

“Don’t even start talking like that,” Jasmine interjected, cutting off Lydia’s pity party before it could reach new heights. She walked over to Lydia and took her hands into her own, like the true Mom friend she was. “And Lydia, dear, you’re asking yourself the wrong question. Instead of asking ‘What if?’, ask yourself ‘What now?’ Let’s think about the positives from tonight. Robin asked you to a slow dance, right? All cute and romantic. That’s gotta count for something.”

A smile forced its way onto Lydia’s face while she reminisced on the brief moment of casual intimacy she shared with Robin. “Yeah, I guess,” she murmured, biting her lip. Jasmine nodded proudly before returning to the task of looking through the Robinson family cabinets. Lydia appreciated having a normal, not-dead friend like her who could get excited over mundane things like an overly detailed description of her first high school dance.

Except Lydia hadn’t shared any details yet.

“Wait, how did you know they asked me?”

Jasmine’s body went stiff, and Lydia noticed. Just loud enough so Lydia could hear, she whispered a quick, “Shit.”

“Jasmine,” Lydia demanded, hopping off the counter and already glaring daggers in her friend’s direction.

Jasmine turned around and held her hands up as if to protect herself from the mental assault she knew was coming her way. “Before you give me that look, it’s not like I threatened them,” she denied, though it didn’t do anything to ease Lydia’s frustration. Delicately, she added, “I merely offered the suggestion.”

Lydia paused, gears shifting in her brain. Then, it all came out in one: “Jaz!”

“What?!”

“It doesn’t count for anything if you suggested it!” Lydia paced back and forth. Robin hadn’t even thought of it themself. Jasmine put the idea in their head, and they were susceptible to suggestion because of the poisoned punch they were drowning in. Suddenly, their suave demeanor and awkward chuckles had a different meaning. “Add the fact that they were probably drunk the whole time…” Lydia punctuated her aggravation with a groan and crossed her arms over her chest. “Tonight truly was a disaster.”

Jasmine’s phone buzzed in her pocket, effectively ending Lydia’s rant. She checked her phone screen and smacked her lips together. “Well, it’s not over just yet. My parents are calling me home, so I gotta jet.”

“Wait, you're leaving me alone with them?”

“It’s Robin, not an axe murderer.” Jasmine pushed the glass of water and bowl of cereal towards Lydia, making the task to sober Robin up her private mission. “Just wait until their dad gets home and, ya know, make sure they don’t die.”

Before Lydia could get out a word of protest, Jasmine was already strutting toward the door and out of the house. Now, she was alone in a house with only the company of a dimly drunk person who she may have romantic feelings for.

_ Great. _

Almost as though it was answering her prayers for a distraction from her current predicament, Lydia’s own phone chimed as a phone call came through. She saw her home contact across the screen and remembered she had yet to tell her parents and guardians where she was. When she answered the call, it sounded like there was an earthquake on the other side along with the panicky whimpers of a grown woman.

“Delia?” 

_“Hi, Lydia!”_ she replied in the overly positive nature she resorted to when things were falling apart. Lydia could relate to the feeling. _“I hate to bother you in the middle of your dance, but when will you be home?”_

“About that,” Lydia said, scrunching her nose. “I’m kinda staying the night at Jasmine’s.”

_ “What?” _

“Sorry I didn’t ask sooner. A lot has happened–“

_ “We need you back now!” _

Lydia furrowed her brow. Something was off, but not like ‘someone spiked the punch’ off. It was more like ‘we live with the forces of life and death in our house’ off. “What’s going on?”

_“It’s Beetlejuice,”_ Delia said, though more elaboration was required. _“He tried to put the toaster in the oven, and now he’s flying through the plumbing system.”_

“Duh, he’s bored,” Lydia responded casually, leaning against the counter. Her indifferent nature greatly contrasted the sheer terror in Delia’s voice. “I thought the Maitlands were hanging with him tonight.” 

The sound of glass crashing on the other end of the line answered Lydia’s question, and she winced as more crashing sounds erupted from the speaker. Delia’s voice came back on. _“I hate to make it sound urgent, but you may be the only person in this house who can make him behave when things get out of hand.”_

Lydia squeezed her eyes shut and pursed her lips together. There were four people in that house with Beetlejuice, but as it stands, Robin would be alone if she left, and she couldn't leave with the state they’re in. She didn’t waste much time on her decision.

“Just tell Beej I’ll be back in the morning and make sure he doesn’t break anything else.” Before Delia could plead back, Lydia heard clumsy footsteps coming down the stairs. “I gotta go.” And then she hung up.

Lydia could only entertain so many disasters.

Her current disaster trudged into the kitchen in a pair of basketball shorts and a hoodie so large, Lydia could use it as a sleeping bag. Under their hood, their red face was trained on the floor, watching their own footsteps carefully. When they looked up at Lydia, a low laugh rumbled in the back of their throat, though it seemed involuntary compared to their sluggish posture.

“How ya feeling?” Lydia asked cautiously.

They shook their head and ambled straight toward the couch. “Terrible,” they grumbled before throwing themself onto the cushions. Lydia grabbed the water glass and hurried to join them on the couch. She sat on the edge right next to their head and held the glass right in front of their face. Groaning for the umpteenth time, they sat up and took the clean drink. All things considered, it seemed like the worst was over. They were sluggish, but not out of their wits.

“This your first time?” Lydia asked while Robin took a few gulps of water. They quirked a brow at her, and she elaborated, “Being drunk.”

“Nope,” they sighed, setting the glass down on the coffee table and slouching into the couch with a distant look in their eyes. “Freshman year. Varsity soccer party. I can’t really say if I was actually drunk-drunk, but after some shots, I ran outside, fell on the ground, and…” They trailed off and stared at their twiddling thumbs. “I think you can guess what I did after that.”

“You didn’t,” Lydia stated, refusing to believe the first conclusion that came to her head, but Robin gave her a guilty look with a sheepish smile. “You did not cry.” Robin’s nervous laughter served as confirmation, and now Lydia had the tragic visual of a slightly younger version of Robin face-down in the grass and sobbing while a bunch of drunk highschool girls run circles around them. Despite that, Robin was laughing about it, so Lydia couldn’t help but join in. “The hell, dude! You got some real issues to work out.”

“It wasn’t a great experience,” they admitted with a shrug, some of their words still blurring together and slowing down at awkward points. “I wouldn’t recommend exposing yourself to alcohol unless you’re with people you trust.”

Lydia stuck her chin up. “Bold of you to assume I’ve never been drunk before.”

“Nuh-uh,” Robin detested, staring at her in utter disbelief. Lydia returned a smug grin, and they giggled like a little Christmas elf. “Okay Deetz, let’s hear it!”

“It was back when I lived in New York,” Lydia began her story, idly fidgeting with the tassels on her dress. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she remembered a key part of her story. “My mom used to go to these wine-mom-bake-days with a bunch of other moms from the area…”

* * *

_ The big red basket. Lydia always knew what the big red basket meant, especially when Christmas was just around the corner. Her mom brought that basket home, and Lydia could practically smell the baked delights within, still warm from the oven. A variety of pastries, a recipe from each of the moms that went to the ‘Cookie Party’. That basket was just one lid-open away from a certain sixth-grader’s ultimate happiness.  _

_ Now, Mama only let Lydia sample one cookie right when she came home, but Lydia was an ambitious youngster. She wanted to try them  _ all _. Mama thought she was smart by putting the red basket on the highest shelf because even if Lydia stood up on the counter, she still couldn’t reach it (darn her late growth spurt). Little did her mother know that her daughter had been preparing for this exact situation _

_ Peering over the edge of the kitchen counter, Lydia’s big brown eyes scanned the room from left to right, making sure the coast was clear. Her father was on a business call upstairs, and her mother was taking a nap in their bedroom. That left Lydia all alone in the kitchen with nothing but a goal and a whole lot of determination. _

_ Pushing a chair against the counter and climbing onto the marble surface was phase one. Lydia was a professional at that maneuver by age five. This time, however, she had brought a small ottoman from the living room. Using all of the strength she could muster, she pushed the piece of furniture onto the kitchen counter before following it right up. Now, she had the extra height she needed to snatch the hallowed red basket. The instant it was in her tiny grasp, she tiptoed down her make-shift staircase and set it down on the floor. Then, she put the ottoman back into the living and moved the chair back so no one would suspect a thing. With all bases covered, she wasted no more time and opened the precious vessel. _

_ Her eyes dilated in wonder. There were sugar cookies dipped in candy coating, marshmallow treats that were shaped like snowmen, and assorted goods of all kinds. Lydia grabbed at what she could and shoved it into her mouth, savoring every flavor while also trying to gobble as much sugar as possible. Then, something amazing hit her taste buds. She identified it as the small, brownie-like ball in her hand. It was richer than any other chocolate she’d ever tasted. She dropped every other sweet back into the basket and refocused her attention on finding every single chocolate ball of goodness. She devoured every last one until there were none left in the basket… _

* * *

_ About half an hour later, Emily woke up from her nap feeling refreshed and energized. She briskly walked downstairs to her kitchen to find Charles enjoying a mug of coffee by the sink.  _

_ “Good morning, honey,” she greeted her husband with a quick peck on the lips. _

_ “It’s four in the afternoon,” Charles corrected her, an amused smirk on his clean-shaven face. _

_ “What’s that saying?” Emily put her hands on her hips and shrugged. “It’s morning somewhere.” _

_ “I believe the saying is ‘It’s happy hour somewhere’.” _

_ “Ooh, I like the sound of that!” Emily exclaimed with child-like excitement. “Which reminds me…” Charles watched her fondly as she shimmied towards the counter and snagged the red basket, which had magically moved from the top shelf to the countertop. She sent Charles a devious look. “I have a little treat for us.” _

_ “Lemme guess,” Charles sighed. “The same chocolate chip cookies you make every year.” _

_ “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just insult my cookies.” Emily put a hand to her chest, pretending to be hurt. Then, she resumed her build-up to her big reveal. “Anyway, you remember Vanessa from down the street?” _

_ “Very Vegan Vanessa?” _

_ “Yeah, her.” Emily lifted the lid off the basket, not bothering to check inside just yet. “She’s on some new no-bake kick to give foods a ‘more natural effect’, and this year, she made…” Emily looked into the cookie basket, but her giddy expression faded into confusion. She dug through the colorful cookies, but she didn’t find what she was looking for. She turned to Charles with an impressed nod. “I guess you already helped yourself.” _

_ “Helped myself to what?” Charles was just as puzzled as she was. He hadn’t tried any of the cookies yet. _

_ “The rum balls,” Emily’s answered with a small chuckle. “Three balls are like a whole shot of 80-proof, especially–“ _

_ “Emily, I didn’t have any rum balls,” Charles gently interrupted his wife. _

_ Emily tilted her head in thought, a serious look fixed on her features to match Charles. He certainly appeared sober, so he was telling the truth. “Well, if you didn’t eat them, and I didn’t eat them, then–“ _

_ She was cut off by a giggle, a squeak, and then a loud thud from upstairs _

_ Charles and Emily looked to each other in utter horror. They had a child. _

_ “Lydia!” _

* * *

“And that’s how I first got drunk at eleven years old,” Lydia concluded the story with a fond grin. Her parents were so panicked that day, they let her stay home from school the rest of the week. All she did was stay inside and play with her mom. 

She missed those days.

Lydia was cut out of her own thoughts by the guttural rumble of Robin snoring next to her. They were out like a light, and Lydia didn’t see any reason to wake them up. Instead, she relaxed into the couch and waited for time to pass.

Not much later, the sound of the front door opening followed by urgent footsteps came from the front hallway. Robin’s dad appeared in the kitchen with panic plain on his face until his eyes landed on the couch. Lydia gave him a small smile and a wave, and he seemed to relax.

“Oh thank god, you made it back safe,” he breathed out, walking further into the living room. The silence that followed was cut by another loud and obnoxious snore on Robin’s part. Their father let out a relieved chuckle. “Thank you so much for the call and for bringing them home. I hope there wasn’t too much trouble, all things considered.”

It took Lydia a second to realize he was talking to her, as she was busy watching the subtle rise and fall of Robin’s chest. “Everything was fine,” she lied with ease. “Just glad we picked up on it when we did.” She could tell from the sunken-look on his face that he was just as exhausted as she was. She chose to spare the more stressful details of the night, which meant that her job there was pretty much done.

“I told my friend I would head over to her place once you got here,” Lydia added, awkwardly jabbing her thumb in a random direction.

“Right, of course.” Mr. Robinson cleared his throat. “Again, I’m sorry you couldn’t enjoy the night properly. I know Steph was looking forward to it.”

Lydia returned a grateful look while she stood up to leave. If the whole dance itself didn’t count for anything, it was a relief to know Robin was looking forward to it beforehand. However, a small voice in the back of her head burned her with new questions.

If Robin’s dad knew about their going to the dance, did he not know their mom instructed them to avoid it?

But Lydia was tired. Mr. Robinson looked tired. Robin was passed out on the couch. So, she bade Robin’s dad goodnight and headed for the door, but she had one last passing thought when she looked back at Robin’s slumbering form on the couch.

_ What now? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait! With finals wrapping up and a minor case of writer's block combined with the sheer length of this chapter, I hadn't had the chance to finish it up. However, I finally got around to it! I hope everyone enjoyed it! I know teen alcohol is a bit of an overused trope, but I assure you I have a purpose beyond making the love interest looking like a baffoon.
> 
> Side note: I hope everyone out there is safe during these ever difficult times. If you have the time and resources, I implore you to check out the link in my bio. It is a link to a page of petition and donation sites for the Black Lives Matter movement. I'm using every platform at my disposal to spread the word.
> 
> Stay safe, and let's work together to fight injustice! -Jojo, who must confess that Lydia and Robin's first experiences with alcohol are both true stories, EVEN THE RUM BALLS!


	9. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'd think after a crazy night like the disastrous homecoming dance, things might go back to normal. However, every action has an equal opposite reaction.
> 
> In other words, there are going to be consequences, but will they be served justly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small chapter today! Tying up loose ends from previous chapters and setting the ball in motion for the rest of the story. However, I promise the next chapter will be much more eventful (and adorable, cmon this story is supposed to be like 75% romantic, I'm just being slow about it XD) Anyway, without further ado, CHAPTER NINE! -Jojo, who got burnt to a crisp today while power washing their fence, I suck at remembering sunscreen

After the whole homecoming fiasco, Lydia could have collapsed the instant she entered Jasmine’s house. However, Jasmine knew her friend well enough to know that she would forget to take care of herself if someone didn’t remind her. So, Lydia was dragged through Jasmine’s nightly routine of skincare and proper hygiene before changing into donated sweats and passing out on the couch. Needless to say, she slept like a corpse. It would have taken a sonic boom to wake her up.

Or the evocative ringtone of "Alone Together" she assigned to Robin’s contact.

“Turn it off!” groaned the still slumbering form of Jasmine. She turned over under her plump layers of blankets on the recliner while Lydia scrambled for her blaring phone on the table next to the couch. Once Lydia grabbed ahold of her phone, she rolled onto the ground with an uncomfortable thud and answered the call.

“Hello?” she grumbled into her phone.

“Lydia?” said Robin from the other side, sounding surprisingly perky in spite of their intoxication from the previous night. “Shit, did I wake you up?”

“No, you’re fine.” Lydia yawned, rubbing the palm of her free hand into her blurry eyes. “What’s up?”

“You stayed the night at Jasmine’s, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a sec to come outside?”

Lydia glanced at Jasmine, who was already sound asleep once more. Lydia whispered, “Be right out,” into her phone before ending the call and pushing herself off the floor. As she made her way to the door, she stopped at the mirror in the foyer. With bags under her eyes, a jacket that was a couple sizes too big, and the hood hiding what could have very easily been a rats nest of her hair, she looked like death.

She shrugged at her reflection. Business as usual.

Lydia stepped out the front door and spotted Robin on the sidewalk. If the running shoes and athletic attire didn’t tip her off to the fact that they clearly just finished a workout, it was the subtle gleam of their skin in the morning sun.

And Lydia wasn’t complaining, but would it kill them to wear sleeves. It was too goddamn early in the morning for _this_.

“Lydia, hey,” they greeted her once she stepped out into the morning breeze. They jogged up the driveway to meet her halfway. The concrete under Lydia’s bare feet was still cold, though the spot where Robin halted right in front of her was basked in the golden rays. The slope of the driveway put them almost at eye level with her, and that only made the speckled reflection of the sun in their hazel eyes all the more apparent.

Lydia folded her arms and looked them up and down. Their posture as a whole was bouncy and energetic, a total 180 from the night before. “Wow,” she nodded in genuine surprise. “You look very…”

Robin chuckled at her loss of words. “Alive?” 

“Well, yeah.” Lydia laughed for a second before her face fell in response to a plaguing thought. She wouldn't be able to tell the difference. “You are alive, right?”

“I hope so,” Robin answered after an uncertain pause. “Either that, or you can see the dead.”

Lydia hesitated, but she quickly covered it up with a nervous laugh. “Pssshh, see the dead?” She jabbed them in the shoulder a little harder than she intended, trying to play it off as a joke. “Imagine that.”

Much to Lydia’s relief, Robin brushed off her bizarre reaction and stated their purpose. “Anyway, I was just out for a run to get out all the… _junk_ from last night.” They glanced off to the side and cleared their throat. “And I wanted to thank you in person for taking me home. I can’t imagine it was very easy.”

Lydia waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t even mention it.” She knew they were just being their courteous self, but she didn’t do it for thanks. She couldn’t even imagine a world where she would have abandoned them in that situation

“Oh no, I’m not gonna let you brush this over,” they declared with a wag of their finger and a determined grin. “Seriously, I owe you big time.”

“You sure you wanna be in my debt?” Lydia smirked deviously.

“You make it sound like I’m making a deal with the devil,” Robin noted, a hint of weariness in their voice. “I was just gonna offer a week of elevator key use upon request or something.”

“Tempting offer,” Lydia contemplated, tapping her chin menacingly. “I’ll think about it.”

“Now it really sounds like I made a deal with the devil.” They ran a hand through their hair, moving the few curls that were matted to their forehead. Lydia hadn’t noticed before but with the passing time, their hair had grown from ‘short and stiff’ to a small collection of curls atop their head. She hated to admit it, but she wondered if it was actually _fluffy_.

Seriously, it was too early for this.

“Well, when you figure out what you want, just let me know.” Robin pulled Lydia from her own intrusive thoughts. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, they jogged down the driveway and headed in the direction of their own house. When they made it to their porch, they looked back at Jasmine’s house to see Lydia still standing there with her hands shoved in the pockets of the donated jacket. They gave her one last wave and a smirk before heading inside.

Lydia hoped it wasn't obvious that she was grinning like an idiot the whole time. It was a habit she stopped trying to fight around Robin. If she was going to scare them off, she would have done it by now, but they were still around. They still _wanted_ to be around.

_ “When you figure out what you want, just let me know.” _

But that was the million-dollar question.

What exactly did she want? 

* * *

When Lydia trudged through the front door of her own house, she was immediately bombarded by a flash of black and white.

“LYDIA! Oh, thank Satan you’re home!” Beetlejuice hollered when Lydia had both feet inside. She would have fallen backward if it wasn’t for her father coming in after her. “Can we pleeeeeease do something fun today? It doesn’t even have to be big. We can even just dissect the bird we buried last week.”

Charles stepped through the door and narrowed his eyes at the duo. “You did _what_?”

“Nothing,” Beetlejuice choked out.

”Look, Beej, as fun as all that sounds–“ Charles made a face of disgust at Lydia’s response. “–I need a nap after the night I’ve had.”

“What?! But–“

“Seriously BJ, ask me in a few hours.”

The ghost of a demon watched helplessly as Lydia pushed passed him and tiredly stomped up the stairs. His hair faded from its green hue into a deep purple, and his lip quivered at his best friend’s offhanded rejection. He turned to Charles, who had gone straight to the kitchen to grab a mug of coffee, and asked, “What’s her deal?”

Charles sighed, staring into his mug. ”I’m afraid I’ll never know.”

* * *

That week in school, the entire student body made a silent agreement to not openly discuss the events of the disastrous homecoming dance. Lydia figured that meant one of two things: the vodka in the punch didn’t cause as much chaos as the perpetrator may have intended, or it caused so much chaos after Lydia left that people were too ashamed to mention it. Either way, Lydia didn’t hear a peep of it…

Until Wednesday.

“Lydia! Lydia! Lydia!” Jasmine bombarded Lydia the instant she walked through the school entrance. 

“Woah, calm down, Jazz.” Lydia tried to defuse her friend’s frantic attack. She wasn’t ready for this level of energy, and she certainly wasn’t ready for what Jasmine had to tell her.

“I can’t! Mrs. Fenwick was just fired.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes at Jasmine in utter bafflement. Old, kind, effective Headmistress Fenwick? _Fired?_ “What?”

“Parents complained about homecoming and called for an investigation on the ‘poisoning of minors’,” Jasmine explained, urgency in her tone. “They couldn’t trace the evidence back to any students, so the board asked Mrs. Fenwick to resign for negligence of duty.”

“Wait, how did all that happen so quickly?” Lydia asked, confused by how all of this had already taken place. “Homecoming was literally four days ago.”

“I don’t know,” Jasmine sighed, throwing her hands down to her sides. “What I do know is that with Fenwick gone, the assistant headmaster gets a promotion.”

Lydia groaned in dread, “You don’t mean–“

“What’re you guys talking about?” interjected the incoming voice of Robin as they joined the two girls at the vantage point a safe distance away from the front office.

“Goldstar, perfect,” Jasmine beamed at them. “You wanna clue us in on how the PTA opened and closed a police investigation in less than one day?”

“What?” It seemed Robin didn’t have the information Jasmine was hoping for.

Lydia flicked her head toward the front office, where she could spot conversing adults through the window. “Fenwick’s taking the heat for the spiked punch fiasco,” she reiterated what Jasmine told her moments before. “Which means Griffs is on track to be headmaster.”

“You serious?” they asked, just as peeved as Lydia was about the strict man taking control of the school. “God, he made life hell for the office aides as the assistant headmaster. Things are just gonna get worse.”

Jasmine suddenly pulled her phone out and leaned against the wall, trying to look as uninterested as possible. “Shhh, he’s coming out.”

Lydia and Robin picked up on tactic and followed suit, imitating Jasmine’s posture while also very subtly keeping their eyes and ears focused on the front office. Out came Mr. Griffs, his tight face somehow reflecting a smile in self-satisfaction. He was shaking hands with a blonde lady in a pencil skirt who looked a lot like the supervillain straight out of a prim and sophisticated dystopian novel. 

“I’m sure the PTA will be thrilled to hear of your promotion,” said the lady, folding her hands in front of herself and maintaining professional posture. “I look forward to our partnership, Headmaster Griffs.” 

Griffs grew smugger at his official title. “As do I. Hopefully, the two of us can straighten out this school yet.”

The lady nodded her head in agreement, and the two parted ways. As she made her way towards the exit, she chastised students passing her by. Whether they were chewing gum or being a bit too loud, this woman called them out on it as if she were a teacher, or something worse. Lydia tensed up as she drew closer to her and her friends. The lady scanned the three teens with a scrutinizing gaze. Between Jasmine’s need for color in her wardrobe and Lydia’s morbid taste in jewelry, they probably stood out more than they intended.

But they weren’t what drew the supervillain over.

“Roll down your sleeves,” she admonished Robin, who immediately flinched at attention and started rolling down the cuffed sleeves of their uniform shirt. “If you insist on wearing _that_ uniform, you might as well wear it right.”

With that, the stern lady with a superiority complex took her leave. Lydia watched her go with a look of utter disgust. Not only did she have to deal with Griffs as the headmaster, but it seemed like there were other evil forces at play.

”Who’s the bitch with a stick up her ass?” Lydia asked, disdain clear in her voice as she crossed her arms over her chest. Jasmine facepalmed at her question, which confused Lydia…

Until Robin answered, ”My mom.”

Lydia cringed at herself, throwing her head back at her rotten luck.

_ Of course, it was. _

Robin’s mom was the PTA President. Lydia kept forgetting that.

“Robin, I’m–“

“Don’t apologize, you’re right,” they interrupted her, much to Lydia’s surprise. Did they just agree that their own mother was a bitch? They must’ve caught onto her shock because they chuckled half-heartedly. “Not everyone’s mom is an all-accepting life coach.” Then, they quickly changed the topic, hoping Lydia would forget it altogether. “Anyway, is the elevator-offer the lady’s choice?”

Robin should’ve known by now that Lydia wouldn’t forget details like that, but she’d play along for now.  “No, I’m not gonna waste that favor on a mere week of privilege.”

Jasmine glanced between the two of them. ”Anybody wanna tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

Robin began explaining, ”We came to some kind of agreement–“

“They decided it on their own,” Lydia inserted.

”–That I owe her a solid for taking care of my drunk ass.” As an afterthought, they added with a minor hint of jested bitterness, “Anything she wants, apparently, seeing as she won’t take my suggestion.”

“Right, okay,” Jasmine nodded along, a critical look on her face. Lydia wished she could see what was going on inside her head. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be until after they parted ways and the late bell rang that Jasmine would send her a text explaining exactly what she was thinking.

_ Jazz: _

_ I drove them home and you dont see them swearin servitude to me _

Lydia rolled her eyes at her phone and tapped back a text of her own.

_ Lydia: _

_ that is not what they said _

_ Jazz: _

_ Lemme get this right. You can ask for anything from them _

_ Lydia: _

_ seems that way _

_ Jazz: _

_ And theyll do it bc it’s Robin, theyre one of those chivalry ain’t dead nerds _

_ Lydia: _

_ i guess? _

_ Jazz: _

_ Dude. Ask them on an actual date. _

At one glance of that text, Lydia turned her phone off. A lot of information was just thrust upon her, and she couldn’t just let it pass her by without processing it. Her feelings for Robin would have to take the backseat for now.

Griffs is going to be headmaster. While that didn’t necessarily guarantee tragedy, she already didn’t like the guy. According to the Maitlands, he hadn’t changed much since his days in high school.  His being headmaster also seemed to mean more power to the PTA. At least, Mrs. Robinson’s exchange with him implied as much. Up until now, Lydia hadn’t paid much attention to Delia’s ramblings about her role in the PTA, but it might be worthwhile to start listening.

Especially after that _brilliant_ first impression.

Lydia got a bad vibe from just her demeanor, but when Robin, her own child, confirmed Lydia’s colorfully-worded suspicion, that feeling only intensified. With all this, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something going on behind the scenes. Something just didn’t sit right with Lydia.

On the other hand, maybe she was being paranoid. Some kid pulled a stupid stunt, got their headmistress in trouble, and now her ghostly guardians’ high school tormentor was going to be headmaster. It could happen without further ramifications.

Or maybe there was something going on. She needed to confer with her council.

* * *

That council was made up of the three ghosts in her attic.

“I’m telling you guys, it makes no sense,” Lydia vented after explaining the entire situation to the dead spirits in the room. She started with homecoming and ended with Robin’s stingy mother. Once she was done, she dumped herself onto the couch with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You’re right,” Beetlejuice piped up from his spot in the wooden scaffolding above. “Why would anyone get mad about extra booze?”

His comment was met with the collective disapproval of the room. Adam attempted to clarify for him, ”They’re minors, Beetlejuice.”

“So?” asked Beetlejuice absentmindedly. Barbara and Adam both glared daggers at him while Lydia simply pinched the bridge of her nose impatiently. It took Beetlejuice several moments to read the room and realize everyone was cross with him. “What are you staring at?”

Let's just say Beetlejuice’s grasp of what minors should and shouldn’t do was still fuzzy. They already covered marriage, but it seemed they still had to explain... _everything else._

A problem for another day.

“It actually sounds kinda familiar,” Barbara said, referring to Lydia’s current predicament. She turned to her husband. “Adam, do you remember our senior picnic?”

”Yes!” Adam snapped his fingers in recognition. Lydia waited for him to elaborate. “Someone replaced the Jell-O cups with Jell-O shots, and the whole thing fell apart. Cops showed up and started interrogating everyone. It was kinda scary."

But the investigation was closed,” Barbara finished.

“Did they catch who did it?” Lydia inquired, sitting up and gripping the edge of the cushion beneath her.

”No,” Barbara answered, much to Lydia’s disappointment. “Which means someone’s parents paid the piper to save their kid’s future. Anyway, we had graduated already, but with no one being held responsible for the crime, the PTA called for our old headmaster’s removal.” 

That sounded suspiciously like what was going on. In fact, that was _exactly_ what happened. Alcohol snuck into a student event, a closed case, parents demanding justice, and the board calling for the headmaster’s removal. It was almost as if whoever spiked the punch at homecoming was trying to get rid of Mrs. Fenwick. Lydia asked herself who could’ve possibly wanted that when Mrs. Fenwick was arguably the nicest adult in the whole school.

“Weird,” Adam pondered, completely oblivious to the questions stirring in Lydia’s brain. “Enough about our old lives. What else happened in school today?”

Barbara sat next to Lydia and elbowed her playfully in the side. ”Anything happen with Robin~?” she sang teasingly.

Lydia giggled inwardly, temporally forgetting the mystery at hand for another mystery. “No, but…” she sighed. “Nothing hasn’t happened either? I don’t know how to explain what's going on with that situation.”

“Ah, the awkward limbo phase,” Adam mused wisely. “You’re both feeling like there’s something more than friendship, but you’re not going anywhere ‘cause you’re scared of losing that initial spark.”

Adam probably thought that explanation would help, but it only made Lydia more confused. “What?” she inquired.

“He means it’s time to jump their bones,” quipped Beetlejuice casually.

”Beetlejuice!” Barbara reprimanded the floating demon. Lydia slapped a hand over her face and pretended to disappear into the couch.

”That is not what I meant!” Adam asserted, his voice cracking as he grew more flustered. “God, it’s the sex-crazed meatheads like you that made me… _not like_ high school sometimes.”

Barbara scoffed in agreement. “Sex-crazed meatheads like Trevor Griffs.” 

Lydia’s shoulders tensed, alert to new information.

There was a common factor between the two events. The Maitland’s senior picnic and her homecoming had a person in common. 

Trevor Griffs.

And he’s the one who benefits from Fenwick’s removal. 

He was to blame. Lydia was certain of it, and she was going to prove it. That's how she'd get justice for her friends.

“I know what I wanna do,” Lydia declared, standing up from the couch.

“Jump their bones?” Beetlejuice suggested.

“No!” She screwed her face up in disgust at his vulgar suggestion. She stamped her fist into the palm of her other hand. “I’m gonna do something normal for once. Something someone my age should do while we’re still young.” 

When she didn’t speak again for an uncomfortably long pause, Barbara guessed, “You’re gonna ask Robin on a date?”

“Ew no,” Lydia denied. “I’m gonna overthrow a corrupt system. Keep up, Barbara.”

* * *

Before toppling the corruption that was–in Lydia’s mind–undoubtedly taking root in her very own school, she had to actually be a student first.

And students who tank biology within the first month of school still have tutoring, even if they are planning a revolution.

Of course, Lydia couldn’t concentrate on the plant anatomy she was being forced to review. It was impossible when her brain was spinning with all of these new discoveries. Nothing but theories so far, but she was sure she could get her hands on the evidence she needed before the year was over. Maybe she could get Jasmine’s information-hungry talents in on the mix, and then–

“Lydia?”

Lydia shook her head, startled from her thoughts. “Yeah?”

Okay, maybe the whirlwind of conspiracy between her ears wasn’t the only reason she struggled to stay on task. There was also the fact that her tutor was still _Robin._

They chuckled at her deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. “I personally understand what it’s like to be a slow reader, but you haven’t turned the page in 20 minutes.” At their observation, Lydia looked down and realized she really hadn’t passed the first page of the chapter. To make matters worse, she has never been a slow reader, and Robin probably knew that by now. They leaned their elbows on the table and looked her over with earnest concern. “Is everything okay?”

“With me? Yeah,” Lydia hurried out with a nervous laugh. She didn’t want to worry Robin with the details since she already knew what their response would be ‘don’t worry about it’ or something close to it. “I’m just having trouble focusing is all.”

“Is this about your 'concussion'?” they joked with air quotes, turning on the flashlight on their phone and waggling their eyebrows. “Want me to check your eyes again?”

“No,” Lydia objected all too quickly. Then, she flipped the conversation around to take the heat off herself. “Is everything okay with you?”

Robin appeared taken aback. “Yeah.”

“Rad.”

They fell back into the cold silence that often filled the reading portion of their study sessions. Lydia resumed staring blankly at the book in front of her. Now, both her scheming for the high school hierarchy and the mere awareness of Robin in front of her were both vying for her attention. Eventually, the tug of the ladder became too strong, and she chanced a glance up at her tutor.

Only to find they were already watching her.

_ Busted. _

Lydia winced as Robin shook their head with a knowing smirk. “Look, if you’re feeling burnt out again, we can end early tonight.”

“What? Wait, no–”

“You said it yourself, you can’t focus,” they cut her off, already packing up their bag and standing up. “Maybe we should just call it a night.”

“Wait, hold up.” Lydia ran around the table to stop Robin from leaving. They stared at her curiously, waiting for her to go on, but Lydia had no idea what she was going to say. She already forfeited her tutoring session last week, and her Wednesday night was noticeably less exciting. Admittedly, she wished she could somehow spend this precious extra time with Robin doing anything but school work. How could she convey that?

Then, something Robin had told her days before replayed in the back of her mind.

_ “When you figure out what you want, just let me know.”  _

She really could just flat out say it.

“Maybe we don’t have to study,” she suggested, bouncing on her toes and folding her arms behind her back.

Robin appeared visibly confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Lydia began, realizing she’d have to spell it out for them. She swallowed her doubt and sighed out her reservations. It was just a sentence, a trifle really. She’s faced far worse. “Do you wanna just hang out for a while? Watch a movie or something?”

They hesitated, which was far scarier to Lydia than asking the question. However, the corner of their mouth tugged upward, and Lydia felt her shoulders relax. “Um, sure,” they responded, glancing down at their feet as a full smile took root on their face. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’m just gonna let my parents know I’ll be home late.”

Lydia nodded, struggling to contain the mini celebration going on behind her eyes. Robin pulled out their phone and headed towards the hallway to make the aforementioned call to their parents. Once they were out of sight, Lydia bit her lip against the surge of excitement growing in her stomach. She was one step closer to getting out of Adam’s so-called ‘awkward limbo phase’. With a hushed squeal, Lydia spun around to set up the television.

But she spun right into a floating blob of stripes.

"Gah!" Lydia jumped backward and raised a hand to her chest to still her startled heart. “A little warning next time, Beej,” she groaned in annoyance.

“You’re really bad at this,” Beetlejuice declared, crossing his arms in disapproval. “You didn’t even properly set the mood for bone-jumping?”

Lydia rolled her eyes and pressed her lips into a firm line. “That’s because I’m not going to 'jump their bones',” she stated as firmly as she could, barely managing to keep her tone even.

“Not without proper education, you’re not.” With a wave of his hand, Beetlejuice fabricated a black DVD case and dropped it into Lydia’s hands. “Here’s my secret stash.”

Lydia scanned over the blank cover. “Stash of what?” she asked skeptically.

“Assorted porn.”

Lydia dropped the DVD faster than the floorboards dropped the Maitlands. “Where’d you even get that?!” she demanded in disgust.

“I downloaded it with Chuck's computer,” Beetlejuice answered nonchalantly. They both heard Robin’s footsteps coming back from the hallway, and Beetlejuice decided to make himself scarce. “Gotta jet, make me proud!”

He flew into the wall and disappeared before Lydia could berate him any further. Not a second later, Robin reappeared around the corner. Lydia quickly kicked Beetlejuice’s cursed DVD under the TV cupboard and turned around with an innocent smile.

“Bad news,” Robin said, looking down at their phone remorsefully. “I actually can’t stay. My mom wants me home.”

“Something wrong?” 

“No, everything’s fine,” they replied, still looking down at their phone. Lydia glared at them until they finally met her eyes, knowing they weren’t telling the whole story. Robin cleared their throat and admitted, “My mom found out I went to homecoming, and I’m kinda in trouble for it.” 

There’s a detail that slipped Lydia’s mind. Robin’s mom, the PTA president who seemed to be accumulating more power in Griffs’ ascension told the one student required at all student-led events to stay away from homecoming. It's almost as if she _knew_ what would happen.

How peculiar. 

“I swear I would much rather be spending more time with you,” Robin quickly amended. Lydia realized that in her brief moment of epiphany, she made a face of doubt. Robin must’ve interrupted it as doubt towards _them_. They snapped their fingers and switched gears. “Hey, you’re into scary stuff, right?”

“What makes you think that?” Lydia asked obliviously, knowing full well that she was wearing skull earrings and a distressed tee that said ‘Sunlight is for Plants’. She watched them squirm for an answer, making an effort not to offend her. Eventually, she put a reassuring hand on their shoulder with a warm expression. “I’m joking. Duh, I’m into scary stuff.”

They sighed in relief before getting to their point. “Well, there’s this Halloween festival at the country club this weekend. For most folks, entry is around fifteen bucks a person.”

“What a rip-off.”

“But I can add your name to the list and get you in for free,” they offered with a cheeky smirk. “And since I’ll technically be ‘working’, my mom can’t interrupt. Sound like something you’d be up for?”

A Halloween-themed festival with uninterrupted, uneducational time with Robin? Only one thing could make it better.

“Will there be a haunted house?” At her question, Robin physically deflated. No, she hadn’t forgotten their tragic childhood backstory with haunted houses, nor did she plan on letting that knowledge go unused. She jabbed a finger into their chest. “Hey, you said you owed me something. I want a haunted house.”

Robin squeezed their eyes shut and whined pathetically behind their tight-lipped smile. Lydia was patient though, and she waited for them to relent, “Okay, yes, there’ll be a haunted house.”

“Excellent,” she teased, steepling her fingertips against one another. “I’m in.”

Robin let out a breath of dread. “I’m gonna regret this, aren't I?”

Lydia smirked deviously, looking them up and down for effect. "You made a deal with the devil," she reiterated their statement from a prior conversation, to which they snickered in amusement. "Time for consequences."


	10. The Lion and the Scarecrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia goes to a Halloween festival at the country club at Robin's invitation, and she starts to feel like maybe they're finally getting out of limbo phase into something else...but then Lydia's ambitions of high school conspiracy lead them down a different road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note - Lydia's costume is pretty much entirely inspired by what her cartoon counterpart wears :) Enjoy!

Saturday rolled around a lot sooner than Lydia had anticipated. Between figuring out how she was going to get hard evidence against Griffs and shooting photos for the soccer team’s first playoff game–which was a roaring success for the Lady Sharks and one not-so-Lady Shark–Lydia rarely found herself with any spare time. Thus, when the day of the awaited Halloween festival arrived, Lydia was a little less than prepared. 

However, Halloween was Lydia’s specialty. 

She never wore traditional Halloween costumes like a Care Bear or a Disney Princess. Her mother always insisted on costumes that were, well, unconventional. Costumes that would make a person ask, “What are you supposed to be?” because it was far more fun to see the reactions when you told them you were the ghost of a Titanic boat boy.

Ah, Third Grade. One of her favorites.

Lucky for Lydia, she didn’t need to go to a thrift store to pick apart old sweaters and ripped jeans to compile her new original costume. All she needed to do was take a pair of scissors to her wedding dress. 

Something she never thought she’d have to do at 16, but I digress.

“What’s that on top of your head?”

Lydia had called Jasmine for a last-minute pep talk leading up to what would be a casual kickback with Robin. Lydia was putting the finishing touches on her spooky-chic makeup when Jasmine asked the aforementioned question.

“A ponytail?” Lydia answered like it was obvious. Her hair wasn’t long enough for a top-knot bun, but she could manage a small ponytail spouting from the top of her head.

“I seriously thought it was a giant spider,” Jasmine confessed, concern evident in her voice.

“That’s the point,” Lydia gloated, drawing a spider web under one of her eyes. She turned the oversized ball gown from her premature wedding into a red poncho–skirt ensemble to go over black leggings and a t-shirt. The ruffles almost resembled spider webs, so the spider-esque ponytail was all part of her cleverly named ‘Spider Witch’ costume. 

“Alright, let’s talk about the elephant in the room then,” Jasmine proposed, rubbing her hand over her tired eyes. She clearly planned on sleeping until the afternoon. “You’re spending the day with Robin?”

“Yep,” Lydia answered with almost too much excitement.

“With no one else?”

“Not that I know of.”

“So it’s a date?”

And that’s where Lydia’s smile faltered. _Technically_ , that word was never used, but that much can be implied. At least, Lydia thought so. Jasmine didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm.

“Please don’t tell me you forgot to establish that again?” Jasmine deadpanned.

“In my defense, Robin assumed it was a date last time,” Lydia reminded her, trying to use the same logic to convince herself.

“Yeah, and you said it wasn’t,” Jasmine shot back.

“I know,” Lydia whined, throwing her head back. Navigating this so-called limbo phase Adam mentioned was starting to seem a lot harder than expected. Lydia rushed to change the topic. “Can we talk about something else? I actually want to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Wanna help me dismantle our school’s leadership?”

Jasmine did a double-take. “What?”

“I’m convinced Griffs arranged for the spiked punch at homecoming,” Lydia elaborated, a firm confidence in her statement. “And I’m almost sure Robin’s mom was involved somehow.”

“Lydia, you know I love a good conspiracy.” Jasmine‘s tone didn’t show the same ‘love’ she was talking about. “But what the hell could have possibly brought you to those conclusions?”

“I did some digging,” Lydia began. Admittedly, her ‘digging’ was talking to the ghosts in her attic, but she danced around that detail. “Back when Griffs went to our school, the exact same thing happened at his senior picnic. Like the exact same thing.”

Jasmine didn’t comment, waiting for Lydia to continue.

“And Robin’s mom originally forbade them from going at all.” Lydia shrugged, internally wincing at how minimal the foundation of her theory actually was. “Doesn’t that sound suspicious? Especially with how things played it out.”

“Sounds like something alright,” Jasmine conceded, though the twang of sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed by Lydia. The former rolled her eyes. “Look, I’ll let you believe this crazy reach of a theory, and I’ll help keep you out of trouble, but you’re gonna need a little more than a loose connection to the past to convince me.”

“Duh,” Lydia agreed. She certainly wasn’t going to stop here. If she was even close to being right, she had a whole adventure ahead of her. “And I’ll get you that after–”

“After your second not-date with Robin,” Jasmine interjected.

And just like that, Lydia’s distraction was wrecked.

“Stop reminding me,” Lydia whined, plopping her chin atop her crossed arms. The sudden reminder sent her heart rate back into overtime. “I literally feel like my chest is about to explode.”

“It’s just Robin.”

“Ya know, even if you say that, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m freaking out!”

“Alright, I know how to help you calm down,” Jasmine insisted. “You just gotta follow my Triple-F philosophy.”

Lydia quirked a brow at her friend through the phone. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“It means Find the Fatal Flaw,” Jasmine explained. “Basically, anytime you start getting all mushy and panicky, just focus on their imperfections, and your brain will remind your heart that they are, in fact, just another person. Go ahead and list a few.”

Lydia sat up straight at the suggestion and thought for a moment. And another moment. And another.

“Please don’t tell me you can’t think of any,” Jasmine chastised, her voice brimming with disappointment.

“I’m trying!” And she really was. Normally, she could poke fun at Robin like it was second nature, but her outlook had warped over time. Their competitive nature and witty banter? Always made things fun. Their insistent need to be friendly to anyone and everyone? Annoying, in Lydia’s opinion, but she couldn’t hate it enough to find it a flaw. The way they hide their pessimistic opinions behind a perky facade?

Lydia broke that wall on several occasions. Not even an issue.

Meanwhile, everything else about them? Standout student-athlete, a helpful tutor, charming, funny, and a generally decent person who Lydia was lucky enough to call a friend. 

Okay, Lydia could hear it now. She had a bias.

“Lydia, they’re a teenager,” Jasmine stated like that somehow lifted the rose-colored glasses from Lydia’s nose. “At least half of who they are is being flawed.”

“Then they do a really good job of covering it up.” That much Lydia already knew, and yet somehow even in the flaws she could think of, she found some kind of diamond in the rough.  These dumb feelings were really clouding her judgment.

“Goddamnit,” Jasmine swore, throwing her hands up and slamming them on her desk. Lydia didn’t know why she was so frustrated. Jasmine knew just as well as she did that this was Lydia’s first real attempt at ‘something more than friendship'. It was almost like she knew something Lydia didn’t. “You know what, that’s your mission for today. Hang out with Robin, have a good time–” Jasmine’s initially motherly tone dropped into a deadpan. “–and figure out what is wrong with them!”

* * *

Delia dropped Lydia off in the Bryer’s Ridge parking lot in the early afternoon, and Lydia could already smell the hay bales and cheap costume rubber. She followed the incoming festival crowd to the golf course entrance, the colored view of the normally monochromatic fairway exciting her. The whole course had been transformed into an autumn-theme amusement park. From atop the hill leading to the entrance, Lydia could see a maze, a tractor hayride, pumpkin carving, and folks in costumes all over the green. 

She hated golf, but boy did she love Halloween.

According to Robin’s texts, Lydia only needed to walk up to the clerk at the entrance and say her name is 'on the list’. However, there seemed to be a minor hitch in that plan.

“We don’t have a Lydia Deetz on the list,” said the short, older gentleman who seemed horribly uninterested in his own job.

“You sure?” Lydia asked, a mild sense of doubt rising in her. For just a moment, she thought Robin forgot to add her to the list, and their whole day together would be ruined.

But then she remembered who she was dealing with.

“Can you check for a Lydia Sheeher?” she suggested, smiling with a grimace in her eyes. The man checked his list once more, his furrowed brow suddenly relaxing as he spotted the name on his list. Lydia giggled nervously as he let her into the fair, but she dropped the facade the instant she was out of his view.

_They seriously won’t let that drop,_ she thought cynically, trying to make it into that one flaw for which she was searching. However, all she could focus on was the sentiment of the day they met, and she found it more meaningful than irksome.

Of course, it wouldn't be that easy.

Robin had texted Lydia a meeting spot the night before, so Lydia followed a series of signs to the storage barn. It was decorated with scattered streaks of white, black, and orange streamers and a big sign that said ‘Haunted Hayride’ across the top. Standing in line were a bunch of pompous-looking adults with their excited children dangling on their arms. Now that Lydia finally had a glimpse of this club’s membership, she really hoped her dad booked the sale. They were in dire need of a more interesting looking audience.

Not long after Lydia arrived, the homey thrall of an engine from behind the hill signaled the return of the long-awaited hayride. A giant green tractor rode towards the barn with a broad extension filled with hay trailing behind it. The masses of children in line squealed with joy as the tractor pulled to a stop in front of the barn. Lydia shared similar feelings of excitement, but she was less concerned about the tractor and more interested in the individual driving it.

Robin, in the driver's seat, turned off the tractor and waved a clangorous cowbell in the air before jumping off the tractor in one bound. A couple of course workers hurried to help folks off the ride while assisting the next set of passengers onto it. Meanwhile, Lydia ducked around the traffic to follow Robin towards the barn entrance.

“Lemme guess,” she began once she was close enough for them to hear her. “You volunteered to drive the tractor.”

Robin, clad in the low effort costume of a Lakers jersey with a fake ax through their head, glanced up from their phone, and their face lit up. “Hey, you made it!” They greeted her, holding out their free arm for a side hug. Lydia went along with it, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t bring a rush of what Jasmine dubbed ‘the mushy feelings’. Once the hug was over, Robin checked their watch. “And you’re a half-hour early,” they added with a smidge of surprise.

“Couldn’t wait to see my first Halloween festival in Connecticut,” Lydia replied, though it was a lie. She couldn’t sit still in her house, so she begged Delia to leave early.

“Well, I have one more shift on the hayride,” they said, grabbing a water bottle from a cooler and taking a swig. They quirked an eyebrow and asked in a fake southern accent. “Would the city girl care to take a ride on a real tractor?”

“I’m not from the city,” Lydia divulged with a scoff. “I’m from upstate.”

“Couldn’t let me live out my cowboy dreams, huh?” they joked, leaning against the wall of the barn. They looked her up and down, taking in her costume with a curious gaze. “Are you some kinda Arachne-Hecate demigod hybrid?”

_Oddly specific,_ Lydia noted, still trying to find fault in anything. _But also extremely insightful and and accurate application of Greek Mythology._

Yep, that didn't work.

“Just a spider witch,” she fumbled out, masking the conflict behind her eyes by tucking a stray hair behind her ear. She cleared her throat and countered, “Are you a zombie basketball player without the bad complexion?”

“Lydia, you wound me,” they lamented, holding a hand to their chest as if in pain. “Do you really think I would put such little thought into a Halloween costume?”

No, they wouldn’t. They had shark fins custom made for only a handful of school pep rallies, so they would put _so_ much thought into a costume, other people wouldn’t get it at first glance. Lydia dreaded the thought, but it was probably a pun.

“If you want a hint,” they offered, tugging at their shirt. “I don’t watch basketball. Don’t even know whose jersey this is.”

That drew Lydia’s attention back to the jersey. Lakers’ #10. The Lakers were yellow, purple, and white…just like Robin’s signature pin.

And the number 10? A one and a zero. Binary code.

“It’s a nonbinary pun, isn’t it?” she whined, cringing at her conclusion. 

Robin was smirking proudly and pointing to the fake ax that appeared as though it was in their head. “I’m a dead binary,” they declared, waiting a moment and expecting a bigger reaction. “Ya know, ‘cause it’s dead to me.”

“I get it,” Lydia assured them with a pained smile, and they chuckled in appreciation. She would never admit it aloud, but she did find it a tiny bit clever. She tried not to, but unfortunately, her brain refused to find their wit anything less than attractive.

This was going to be a _long_ day.

* * *

Unlike the league of suburban families who rode in the back, Lydia had the honor of riding in the tractor with Robin. The hayride took them all around the golf course, through the forest, and past the main country club building. Lydia took note of the faint sound of screaming coming from the cart garage. It wasn’t creepy. She was just keeping tabs on where the scary stuff was.

She’s not forgetting what Robin owes her.

When the ride came to an end and the families left the ride, Robin stuck a ‘Hayride Temporarily Closed’ sign on the barn, much to the disappointment of the impatient folks awaiting the next ride. Lydia watched her friend attentively from her seat atop the tractor, mostly because she was too high up and couldn’t get off on her own. After the coast was clear, Robin heaved themself into the hay pit and stomped across the straw towards the tractor.

“Ready to jump?” they asked Lydia, who glared incredulously at the wide gap between the tractor and the hay pit before turning her gaze onto Robin.

“You’re kidding, right?” Lydia deadpanned, folding her arms over her chest.

“Course not,” they said, putting one foot on the railing and holding out their hands. “Just take my hands, and I’ll catch you.”

Lydia hesitated a moment, considering how sure they looked before stepping out of her chair and moving to the back of the tractor. “You sure about this?”

“Positive, just trust me,” they said earnestly. Lydia relented and reached out for their hands. They took ahold of each other’s wrists, and then Robin started to count down. “Okay, on three. One, two–“

Lydia pushed off before they got to three. Robin pulled her forward, and she barrelled straight into their chest, sending them both into the sprawled hay with a heavy crunch.

“That could’ve gone better,” Robin admitted with a guilty groan sounding as if Lydia's landing knocked the wind out of them. “I imagined that being a lot cooler than that actually was.”

Lydia rolled off of them, her face beat red under the spiderweb designs. Even when they were a clumsy idiot, they were adorable.

“But the important thing is,” they announced as they sat up, reinvigorated with new energy. “Hayride isn’t up for another hour, we are under a beautiful autumn sun with a mild breeze, and we have…” They reached around a hay bale and grabbed a wicker basket filled with candy, a smug grin plastered to their face.

“A grand feast,” Lydia finished for them.

“Well, it’s not much,” Robin confessed, sitting against a hay bale with the candy basket in their lap. Lydia moved to sit next to them and grabbed a pack of skittles. “But when kids start crying about the noise, this keeps the parents from suing.”

“So this is bribe candy?” Lydia concluded with a chuckle. 

“Call it what you will,” they sighed as they ripped open a KitKat. “It still tastes amazing.”

And then they did the unimaginable. 

They. 

Bit. 

The. 

KitKat.

Lydia stared in horror. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

“What?” Robin asked cluelessly, taking another bite of their candy. Even their charming smirk couldn’t make it any less painful to watch.

“Oh my God,” Lydia muttered under her breath. The action was too heinous to watch. Even her mushy heart couldn’t find a positive way to swing it. “That’s your fatal flaw!”

Robin looked around cluelessly. “My what?”

“I seriously thought I wasn’t gonna figure it out,” Lydia rambled, sitting up excitedly at her revelation. “But there it is! Right there!” 

“What are you talking about?” Robin chuckled nervously, and Lydia found it cute they were dumb enough to ask.

“You eat KitKats wrong!” she declared, jabbing a finger at their half-finished candy.

Robin fell back against the hay bale, a disappointed laugh groan in their throat. “God, you’re one of those people that thinks there’s a right way to eat KitKats?” They glared at her accusingly. “And I thought you didn’t like chocolate.”

“I don’t, but at least I’m not a sociopath,” Lydia countered. “You’re supposed to break them, like breaking a Hershey's bar.”

Robin didn’t respond for a suspiciously long time. They just guiltily ate their KitKat (still refusing to break it). Lydia’s mouth slowly fell open in disbelief.

“You bite into Hershey's, too!”

Robin plopped the candy basket into Lydia’s lap. “Find me a Hershey’s and I’ll blow your mind.”

Lydia pushed the candy away as though that were the most cursed thing in her sight. Then, she threw her arms down at her sides in disbelief. “Next you’re gonna tell me you sleep with your socks on.”

“When my feet are cold, yeah,” Robin answered with a shrug. They thought it to be no big deal, but Lydia was repulsed.

“With your closet door open?”

“My closet hasn’t been closed in years, Lydia. How do you think I got out?”

Lydia would have snapped back another retort if it wasn’t for their wordplay registering in her brain. She gritted her teeth together and growled, “Don’t try to distract me with another pun.”

They flicked their eyebrows in a cocky manner. “So you admit you like my puns?” they teased suavely. 

“Do you admit you’re a sociopath?” Lydia countered, poking a finger into their shoulder

“I asked you first!”

Robin sat up with their last comment, shoving their face right in front of Lydia’s amidst their playful argument. It brought the slew of clever comebacks to a complete halt. Both Lydia and Robin were put off, lost for words and, briefly, for breath. It wasn’t until Robin cleared their throat and awkwardly turned away that Lydia found the sense to do the same. They sat in thick silence, neither of them acknowledging that moment of dangerous proximity. However, amidst Lydia's fleeting glances, she noticed Robin’s foot rapidly shaking. If she knew anything about her esteemed crush, it’s that they were well versed in keeping their composure at the expense of a physical display of nerves.

Robin was _nervous_. Just like she was.

_ Do they like me back? _

The idea didn’t seem too far fetched, especially with how their eyes were trained on their twiddling thumbs. Lydia smiled, hope bubbling in her gut. Now that she knew about the real potential, she wasn’t going to risk losing it to their shared silence. To break up the tense moment, she did a gesture they know all too well: she punched them in the arm.

They jumped a little at the harsh contact and put a hand over the spot she hit. Then, when they looked up at Lydia and saw her mischievous expression, the corner of their lips curled into a knowing grin. Lydia popped a skittle into her mouth and took initiative, scooting closer until her side was right up against Robin’s. In another act of boldness, she took their hand into her own. She could feel their shoulders tense and immediately relax. 

Oh yeah, they were definitely nervous.

And so was she. It was just a lot easier to sit close to them and hold their hand when she thought about how they ate their KitKats.

* * *

After their cozy hour in the back of the hayride, one of Robin’s coworkers kicked the pair of lounging teens out of the hay pit. Lydia and Robin then took to the green, exploring the rest of Fairway Frights. Did the change of location stop the conversation? Of course not! Did they both sneak candy into their pockets? Duh!

Were they still holding hands? 

You betcha!

Were _either_ of them going to acknowledge that?

Ehhhhhh…baby steps.

At long last, their aimless walking led them back to the golf cart garage, where a long line of jittery prospects were awaiting their turn in the infamous Haunted House. At the sight of the gloomy garage hidden behind eerie velvet curtains, Lydia hopped around in excitement before stopping right in front of Robin.

“You and me,” she stated with a smirk. “Haunted House. Right now.”

Robin grimaced and leaned away, only they were still tethered to Lydia via hands. 

“Aw man,” they whined.

“Come on, this festival is meant for the kids of snobby rich dudes,” Lydia pointed out with a shrug. “How scary can it be?”

“You remember my super tough manager, right?” Robin brought up.

Lydia pondered on it. Sydonia, the unemotive definition of a walking tattoo parlor who wore Ryan Reynolds red carpet suits better than he did? _Oh yeah_ , Lydia thought with a nod. _I remember._

“She designs the haunted house to scare the cocky guys who mooch off their rich daddies’ memberships,” Robin explained, their tone becoming less and less enthusiastic as they went.

Lydia cringed. “Never say rich daddies ever again.”

“Roger that.”

“But what you're saying is.” She picked back up where she left off, even more intrigued than she was before. “It’s a real scare-fest in there?”

“Yes,” Robin confessed.

“Then let’s go,” Lydia cheered, already jumping in the direction of the haunted house line. Robin dug their heels into the ground. Lydia paused her efforts and pursed her lips together. “You promised! And besides, nothing bad’s gonna actually happen.”

“That’s easier for you to say.” Robin gestured to Lydia with their free hand. “You’re not afraid of anything, but I’m gonna look like a total wimp.” They already knew they didn’t do well in haunted houses, and they knew Lydia knew. What they didn’t know was how wrong they were about something else.

“Who said I wasn’t afraid?” 

Robin furrowed their brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I can get real terrified, but being scared is part of the fun,” Lydia mused wisely. Robin’s resolve broke a little, but they weren’t altogether convinced. Lydia rolled her eyes and added more firmly, “A real wimp is afraid of being afraid, so they don’t take the risk to begin with.”

Robin took her words with a conflicted expression, wrestling with their options. All the while, Lydia was slowly walking in the direction of the haunted house with a mischievous glint in her eyes. They didn’t fully resist this time, but their feet did flop on the ground as they walked. Lydia decided she had to break out the big guns: her begging face.

No parent, dead or alive, is able to say no to Lydia when she brings out the puppy dog eyes, sad lower lip, and fluttering eyelashes. All it took was one sad little sniff, and Robin caved

“Okay, fine!” they groaned. Lydia immediately dropped the sad facade and resumed her excited bouncing around. Robin watched with a fond smile, though it went unnoticed by Lydia in her energetic antics. They hitched their chin towards the haunted house and said, “Lead the way.”

And thus Lydia skipped gleefully with a reluctant Robin in tow towards what was hopefully a horrifying experience in a dark, damp garage.

Best. Day. _Ever!_

* * *

The line moved far too slow for Lydia’s taste, and way too fast for Robin’s comfort. The distant sound of startled screams from inside the haunted house made Robin question their agreement to going in. They would have even tried to make an escape if they weren’t still holding Lydia’s hand.

Yep, still not gonna talk about that.

When they made it to the front of the line, Lydia was beaming in anticipation. While having Beetlejuice around certainly kept things interesting, living in a literal haunted house was less rewarding than she expected. Of course, two out of three of her ghosts were suburban-sensible-sedan types. She really didn’t have much to work with.

She craved a good scare.

Head of course security, Officer Randolf, had been stuck with the job of manning the haunted house entrance. When Lydia and Robin were next in line, she didn’t bother to hide her disbelief.

“Robin’s going into the haunted house?” the stout cop scoffed with an amused expression. “Did you get lost, hun?”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t be here,” Robin rushed out, turning to walk away.

“Too late!” Lydia declared, walking in the opposite direction and dragging Robin through the entrance. Randolf held back the curtain to let them in, giving Robin a little wave as they went.

Once the curtains closed behind them, Lydia felt her heart race with adrenaline. She couldn't help the psychotic smile etched into her face. She looked over at Robin to see if they were finally sharing her excitement, but much to her disappointment, they were covering their eyes with their free hand.

“Hey, no cover-ups!” she whined.

“That was never a part of our deal,” they protested, their voice cracking repeatedly. 

Lydia pouted.  “You’re no fun.”

“And haunted houses are?!”

“Yes!” 

Lydia took a few steps into the haunted house, following a glowing red path through a hall of spooky Halloween decorations, some of which made noise as the pair walked by. Robin strung along, still hiding their eyes from the terrors around them–which were mediocre, in Lydia’s opinion. She had to open Robin’s eyes to the fact that haunted houses could be awesome (even if this one was off to a lame start). Now, what could she do to get Robin to remove their hand?

Well, that kinda answered itself.

Lydia let go of their hand and walked away.

“Lydia?” they asked, reaching out for empty space. “Where’d you go?”

Lydia stifled a laugh to keep them from following her voice. Then, she caught sight of an animatronic designed to look like a screaming girl in a hospital gown and thought up something even better. She channeled her inner horror movie she-demon, imagined of the creepiest melody she could think of, and started idly singing in off-hand rhythms.

“Lydia, that’s really creepy,” Robin laughed nervously, shuffling their feet further down the hall after Lydia’s voice. Lydia turned the corner at a zombie graveyard and watched as Robin stumbled into a witch mannequin. “Okay, okay, seriously Lydia! Where–?”

And then Lydia screamed.

Robin ditched their cover hand and immediately ran towards the blood-chilling sound. They found her silhouette behind a golf cart with two skeletons in the chair and around a goblin robot emerging from a toxic pit. They managed to ignore the terrifying ploys and damn near jumped in front of Lydia to shield her from whatever caused that scream. What they didn’t expect to see was a plain steel door.

“That’s the emergency exit door,” they stated through heavy pants.

“Yup,” Lydia confirmed, completely unfazed by the glowing exit sign. In fact, she was settled enough to take up a mocking tone. “Horrifying, truly. I’m just glad you were here to save me.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Robin grumbled, piecing together what happened. She used their boasted chivalric nature against them and exploited their protective instinct. She screamed, they ran, and they had to _see_ to do that. “Well played, Deetz.”

“Hey,” Lydia prodded as they turned around to face her in the low light. “You opened your eyes, and the world didn’t end.”

Robin pressed their lips into a firm line and looked around. They were still very unsettled by the flashing lights and grotesque figures, but that’s all they were. Lights and figures. “I guess you’re right,” they conceded with a sigh.

Despite the dim light, Lydia smiled up at them. They were like the cowardly lion facing their fears, and she supposed that made her the scarecrow who was stupid enough to bait a lion. They were definitely still tense in the haunted house, but then Lydia held out her hand again. Their rigid muscles gradually relaxed and they took her hand with a deep breath, giving her the freedom to lead them back into the path of frights. 

“See?” she said as they passed the toxic pit goblin once more. “There’s nothing to be afraid–“

_ Bang! _

Out of the darkness, a dark figure jumped right in front of them. A flash of light paired with a deafening snap revealed a grossly misshapen face. Both Lydia and Robin screamed for dear life and grabbed for the closest thing to them…which was each other.

Once they realized the perpetrator was a guy in a costume with a camera, Robin and Lydia had two very different reactions. Robin took great pains to try and lower their pulse and rapid breathing. Lydia laughed like a maniac.

“I take that back,” she cackled between fits of laughter. “This place is awesome!” Then she grabbed Robin’s hand and marched down the hall before they could protest. This haunted house was just getting started.

* * *

“That was so much fun!” Lydia cheered, her skin still buzzing from the excitement of the haunted house. Most of it was still a lot of ‘textbook party city decorations’, but there were a few points where she felt genuinely scared. Speaking of genuinely scared, she turned to Robin, who was sitting on a spider-web-designed bench, and asked, “So what’d ya think of your first real haunted house experience?”

“It wasn’t bad,” they answered, their voice wavering in strength. Their foot had been bouncing up and down ever since they sat down, so Lydia could tell they were feeling residual terror. “I mean I was still scared as hell, but at least I had you there to guide me through it.”

Lydia faltered in her post-fright pacing. She often wondered how she found someone so certifiably spineless so attractive.  Then, they would say something like that and she remembered.

Amidst her fond pondering, her phone went off in her pocket. She pulled it out and checked the screen to see a text.

“Hold up, that’s my dad,” she told Robin, whose attention had perked up in interest. Lydia read the text, and her heart filled with dread. “He’s on his way to pick me up.”

“Damn, already?” Robin swore, sounding just as disappointed as Lydia felt. She did, however, feel better knowing that they were just as bummed about the premature end to their haunted hang out. “Did you tell him the fair doesn’t close for a few more hours?”

Lydia nodded, glancing back down at her phone.

_ Dad: _

_ Need your help with Beetlejuice. Love, Dad. _

Lydia groaned in annoyance and shoved her phone in her pocket. Then, she realized Robin was looking to her for an explanation.

“It’s my…” she began, thinking on her feet. “…cat. Dad says I need to give him a bath.”

“Ah gotcha,” Robin nodded along in understanding. “I have a dog at home, so I totally get it.”

_I’m not sure you do,_ Lydia thought pessimistically. Unless their dog was a blood-thirsty trash demon, she might argue they had no idea what her home life was like.

“So we have time for one more thing,” Lydia said, changing the topic so she wouldn’t have to make up any more ‘cat’ talk.

“How about the hay maze?” Robin suggested. “I helped put it together.”

Lydia’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Wouldn’t it be over really quickly? You’d know how to finish it.”

“It could,” Robin agreed, their expression growing smug. They stood up from the bench and offered Lydia their hand. “Or it could last for a very long time because I purposefully run us into dead ends.”

Lydia smirked. “That sounds a lot more interesting,” she agreed, placing her hand in theirs and letting them lead the way.

* * *

“Any updates on your dad’s deal with the club?” 

Robin’s question came up while they were well into the maze. Robin had already run them into half a dozen dead ends. Meanwhile, kids were running all over the place, and parents were chasing them with 'bribe candy'.

“I think he’s got some meeting with people from the school,” Lydia answered loosely as they ran into yet another dead end. They’d been in the maze for ten minutes now, and Robin was keeping their word in drawing it out as much as possible. “Something about getting their support to make his offer legit. I don’t really pay attention, I just show up to dinners.”

Robin nodded along, dodging a group of running kids as they sped through the maze. “I’d think recent events would make his deal more compelling,” they pondered optimistically. “High-security location for school events and all.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Lydia shrugged, her theory against Griffs itching at the back of her mind. She hadn’t thought of bringing Robin into the mess, especially with Griffs’ potential ties to their mom. However, she realized she may also be wasting a valuable resource.

“Speaking of which,” Lydia led in, trying to remain objective. “How’s your mom handling the whole homecoming scandal?”

Robin chuckled, “Curious as always?” 

“Humor me.”

They sighed, turning them around another corridor of straw. “Well, parents were furious, obviously, so my mom had to deal with that, but the school managed to smother it like it never even happened.”

_How convenient,_ Lydia thought. On the outside, she remained impartial.

“Kinda weird,” she noted aloud.

“The whole thing is effed up,” Robin vented, and Lydia felt the tiniest bit of guilt. They were opening up to her in confidence, and she was no doubt searching for a clue. She pushed it down for now and continued listening. “Police were parading around the office all week, even after the case was closed. I heard around that Griffs bought the case files off of them to keep the event out of their records.”

Lydia’s eyes snapped wide at attention. Griffs bought the police files. All of the evidence the police collected are in his possession, and out of the records. They might be in his office.

And she knew someone who could get her into his office.

“Wow that’s crazy,” Lydia mused before clearing her throat and shifting gears. “Hey, can I ask you a favor?”

“What’s up?” they answered absent-mindedly. Meanwhile, Lydia was concocting the most believable story she could come up with. She originally wanted to keep them out of it altogether, but the most she can do now was keep them in the dark.

_For their sake,_ she kept telling herself.

“Earlier this week, Griffs confiscated something from me,” she started, building her cover-up as she went. “Do you think you could help me sneak into his office so I can get it back?”

“Your parents can just call in and pick it up."

“My parents can’t know,” Lydia insisted.

Robin glanced at her curiously. “What is it?”

“My…” For a moment Lydia felt stuck. What could get confiscated at school that her parents couldn’t know about that was a blatant murder weapon? 

Then she remembered a small device Delia threw out over the summer in an extravagant ‘lung saving ceremony’.

Lydia hated it, but it was the most believable thing she could think of.

“My juul.”

Robin stopped dead in their tracks. Lydia followed suit since they had run into another dead end, but she feared their abrupt stop had more to do with her than the wall of hay in front of them. Her fears only grew when their hand went slack in hers. 

“You juul?” they asked, a hint of weariness in their tone.

“Yep.” Lydia’s voice betrayed feelings of awkward guilt, but it seemed to work out in this given situation. Either she’s nervous about asking Robin to help fuel a need for nicotine, or she’s lying.

Both options were horrible.

“Okay…” Robin mumbled in uncertainty as they let go of Lydia's hand to scratch the back of their neck. Lydia's heart tugged at the action, and the thought of getting to the office became the second priority in her mind. Now, all should could worry about was Robin’s reaction. It seemed like their whole day alone had just been ruined. 

And it was all her fault. 

“Uh, yeah,” Robin eventually said, wandering down another corridor of the maze with Lydia following attentively at their side. “I can get you in there.”

“Really?” she checked, and they nodded with their eyes trained on the ground. Lydia took that as a bad sign. “Thanks,” she offered courteously.

As soon as she said it, they reached an exit in the maze and walked out. The timing of it couldn’t have been more telling of Robin’s mind space. After all, the maze didn’t have to end until they wanted it to end.

_Oh yeah,_ Lydia chastised herself. _I messed up._

She was snapped from her own thoughts when her phone buzzed again.

“My dad’s here,” she said, trying for a half-hearted laugh to alleviate the mood. “I guess the maze didn’t last as long as we wanted.”

“Right,” they agreed with a tight-lipped smile, and Lydia caught a brief flash of conflict fly across their features. They coughed into their fist and jabbed a thumb over their shoulder. “I should probably see if they need me around the course, but I’ll see you in school.”

That and a small nod from Lydia was all the exchange their farewell included. Robin headed off in the direction of the storage barn where they met a few hours ago. Lydia stayed where she stood for just a moment, silently panicking behind a placid expression. 

There were two major issues at war. Lydia’s already confusing feelings for Robin and the crusade to exposed Griffs–and potentially Robin’s mom–as the real culprits of the homecoming scandal. She never wanted the two to cross, but the opportunity was one she could not avoid.

She just handled it _really_ badly.

She handled it with the scandal at the forefront of her attention, but in doing that, she lost a whole day of getting closer to Robin. In fact, spending time with Robin outside of school and getting to know them differently was supposed to be the goal of the day. Well, that and one other mission.

Finding the Fatal Flaw.

That’s where she miscalculated. Flaws are relative, which is why she couldn’t figure out Robin’s for the longest time. What she also didn't consider was that it goes both ways. 

Meaning Robin’s perception of her values.  Fake ones included.

Even after she found a few minor flaws of their own, she couldn’t deny that Robin was still the poster child for teenage perfection. Or at least they were trying really hard to be. And a personal standard like that would mean blemish in Lydia's habits could scare them off.

And Lydia thought her undoing would be her dead housemates. Turns out she would fall on her own make-believe sword.

She did not think this through at all.

Perhaps the Scarecrow really is brainless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys! I was so glad I could get this chapter done. Originally, this chapter was just supposed to be fluffy and light, but over the past couple of months this story, which was meant to be just a ton of fluff (and, ya know, ghosts) started to form its own underlying PLOT?! and now every scene is an opportunity for a plot device. And don't worry, while this chapter may have ended on a sour note for our fav goth and her little crush, rest assured that they will get a much happier ending (after some conflict) in the next chapter (currently titled Good vs Bad). I hope you all look forward to seeing this story unfold! -Jojo, whose season was just canceled, greeeeeat .^.


	11. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin sneaks Lydia into the Headmaster's office, and they leave on much better terms than those with which they entered. Only a few hours later, the Southern High Soccer Team plays for the chance to advance in playoffs. Can Robin make it out with two wins in one day?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah writing. One of the only things keeping me sane as I go back to school. I'm pretty excited for this chapter, and I hope everyone enjoys the wee bit of emotional growth we gon see. This is starting to look like a true high school netflix romance but hey, I write what I know. - JoJo, who is addicted to command hooks OML

Thursday was the big day.

The Griffs offices heist and the regional semifinals for girls’ soccer.

A doubleheader of sorts.

“And you’re sure Robin can get you in?” Jasmine asked doubtfully as she and Lydia headed towards the front office. School ended half an hour ago, so the hallways were empty save for a few students running around for after-school curricular activities. 

“Yeah, they said they would,” Lydia answered, more trying to assure herself than Jasmine. In truth, she hadn’t spoken to Robin all week. It was _killing_ her. No early morning greetings, no whimsical texts between classes. The only reason she knew Robin would be getting her into the office today was that she asked during the uncharacteristically long hour of tutoring they suffered through in heavy, mind-numbing silence. 

She knew Robin would follow through. She only hoped they would talk to her once it was all over.

Once the two girls arrived at the office, Lydia peeked through the window to search for Robin. When the soccer team had home games, they offered to hang around in the office as they did in the mornings so they wouldn’t have to drive home and back. 

Yes, they were _such_ a good samaritan. Good, thoughtful, _perfect_ Robin.

The person in question was standing by a filing cabinet when they noticed Lydia through the window, a placid look on their face. Lydia pointed at the hallway that extended from the main office towards individual administrator offices. They gave her a curt nod and held up a finger, silently asking for a minute before she made any other moves. Then, they walked out of view. However, it didn’t go unnoticed by Jasmine that they lacked their usual friendly energy.

“They don’t look all that thrilled about your little scheme,” Jasmine pointed out, much to Lydia’s compunction. “How did you manage to rope them into this anyway?”

Lydia winced at the memory of what she said in the hay maze. “I may have twisted a few details.”

“Uh oh,” Jasmine deadpanned, deducing from Lydia’s tone that she really screwed up. “What’d you tell them?”

“That I needed something from the office.”

“What was it?”

“A juul.”

Jasmine waited for a moment, expecting a follow up that was much more extreme, but it never came.

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Lydia confirmed.

Jasmine pursed her lips in confusion. “Have they, like, met half their own team?” She punctuated her question with a snort.

Lydia shook her head and shrugged. “Between you and me, they don’t really like most of their own team.”

“Oh, I get it now.” Jasmine snapped her fingers in epiphany. “It’s because they like you.”

Lydia did a double-take. “They what?”

“I’m only saying what should be the obvious conclusion,” Jasmine stated.

“What? No,” Lydia dismissed, immediately writing off that suggestion. “I feel like they’ve been avoiding me all week.”

“I mean, it’s Goldstar,” Jasmine said factually. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they were forced to watch anti-drug advertisements with their morning cereal. They’re probably just questioning life or something.”

“Well, it’s nothing we have to worry about for much longer.” Lydia tried to sound optimistic. “After we search the office, they’ll know I don’t vape.”

“Right, they’ll just know you lied and you’re plotting to blame our headmaster and their mother for intoxicating half the student body.”

Lydia’s confidence fell along with her face. “Well, when you say it like that, I guess it sounds a little counterproductive,” she agreed reluctantly before turning to her friend for help. “What do I do?”

“Get in, get the files, get out,” Jasmine answered, totally missing the point of the question. “We went over this plan like 20 times.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “I meant about Robin.” 

“Right, right.” Jasmine tapped her chin in thought. “Maybe just be honest with them?”

“So I should tell them I’m conspiring against their mom?”

“Not quite,” Jasmine advised with a pained smile at her friend’s cluelessness. “Lydia, you’re not exactly the most forthcoming person I know. Try opening up and being vulnerable.”

“I hate that idea,” Lydia complained, her face screwed up in disgust.

“It’s the best way to fix this mess you’re in,” Jasmine declared, and Lydia groaned in response. “Just pick one thing that you’ve never told them, and go from there.”

_Something they don’t know,_ Lydia thought in pessimistic realization. _That’s a long list._

The door to the front office swung open, and Robin poked their head out. They spoke in a whisper, “Everyone’s at an admin meeting in the cafeteria. Now’s the best time.”

“Sounds good,” Lydia affirmed, and Robin disappeared behind the door again. As Lydia went to follow them, Jasmine shook her head in disapproval at the unsatisfying interaction. 

“I’ll fix it,” Lydia griped, closing the door. Jasmine remained outside the office to keep watch.

Robin led the way down the back hallway, past the attendance room towards the headmaster’s office in the very back. Lydia followed at a distance. With their shoulders tensed in high alert, Robin glanced down the hall to make sure there were no other lurkers present before they opened the door to the office.

“Alright, just get what you need,” they said in a low voice. 

“Thanks,” Lydia mumbled, switching gears so she was fully focused on the job at hand. She darted past them to Griffs' desk, but she didn’t go for the top drawer where one might find confiscated items. Instead, she went straight for the filing cabinet. It slid open with ease, and Lydia went fiddling through the tabs.

Robin closed the door behind them gently and idly poked their fingers through the blinds to look back into the empty hallway. They shoved their hands into the pockets and rocked back and forth on their feet, filling the awkward silence with a heavy sigh. After putting in a lot of thought and clearing their throat, they eventually broke the radio static between them.

“Hey Lyds,” they said, and it caught the girl in question off guard. She was still huddled behind the desk and had just spotted a file titled ‘CCPD - 10/26/2019’. The date of homecoming.

She pulled out the file and mindlessly replied, “Mhm.”

“I know I’ve been acting a little less friendly this week,” they began what sounded like it was to be either a long-winded apology or a wordy lecture. Whichever it was, Lydia was preoccupied sifting through the pages of the file in her hand. “I was just a little surprised by what you said at the festival–I mean I have this strict idea of what’s good and what’s bad, and when you told me–“

“I don’t juul,” Lydia cut in, saving Robin the breath and herself the attention span.

Robin’s speech came to a premature close, and they could only find the sense to sputter out, “You-you don’t?”

“No.”

“Oh,” they mumbled, scratching the back of their neck sheepishly. They proceeded to look around the room and ramble, “Okay. Awesome. Great. Good choice, good choice.” 

Lydia couldn’t help a small chuckle. “Not a fan?” she guessed, standing up and laying the police file out in front of her. She pulled out her phone and started taking pictures. 

“Let’s just say family history,” Robin answered through a tight smile. Lydia went about her potentially-illegal photo op with the police files while another round of silence settled within the room. The clock was the only sound that filled the space.

It ticked once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four.

“Lydia, why are we in Headmaster Griffs’ office?” Robin finally asked, a concerning amount of confusion laced in their features. They slowly wandered over to the desk and peeked over her shoulder. Their bafflement only grew. “Is that the homecoming police case?”

Lydia didn’t answer. She didn’t have the time. She was trying to photograph every page of this police file because whatever evidence the police found clearly wasn’t being put to use. In fact, she didn’t take her focus off the task at hand until her phone buzzed with a text from Jasmine:

_ Griffs is back! _

“Shit,” Lydia swore under her breath, turning her phone off and shoving any loose pages back into the file. “Griffs is coming.”

Robin tensed up, visibly panicked by the likelihood of them being caught. Lydia wrapped the file securely in her arms and tried to think of the best way out. The front door wasn’t an option, but she did notice the closet door was ajar.

Before Robin could protest, Lydia grabbed their arm and dragged them with her while she ran into the closet. She used her foot to pull the door closed, and just like that, darkness covered the two in a small, cramped closet. Robin opened their mouth to say something, but Lydia immediately slapped her hand over their face. They made a small groan of annoyance that Lydia countered with an intense warning look that said:

_ Shut up, I know what I’m doing…kinda. _

Even Robin could pick up on Lydia’s internal doubts.

Not a moment later, the soft click of the door outside and the muffled sound of grumbled muttering alerted them of Griffs’ arrival. They both listened closely to his footsteps. At one moment, it sounded like he was on the other side of the room. The next, it was as if he was right next to the closet door.

Drawers opened and closed, objects were pulled out and placed back in, and Lydia couldn’t help but grip the files a little tighter. She waited for a beat, expecting the worst as she listened to Griffs go about his business. However, Griffs didn’t make any noise of confusion or frustration. He didn’t notice the files were missing.

With every passing second, Lydia became even more afraid of being caught. Her hands grew clammy, though she realized only one was actually as a result of her nerves. The other hand was still over Robin’s mouth. Much to their disturbance, as could be told by the consistent glare they were sending Lydia.

After an excruciatingly long wait, they heard Griffs zip up a bag, walk towards the door, and close it with an ungrateful slam. As soon as they were sure he was gone, Lydia let out a breath she had been holding and dropped her hand from Robin’s face…which only revealed a disappointed scowl.

Lydia glanced around–which wasn’t much since they were still in a dark closet. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Can you seriously not think of a reason?” Robin asked monotonously, putting their hands on their hips.

Truthfully, she could make a list. Lying, asking them to aid in getting her into Griffs’ office, throwing them in a closet, and all with very little explanation. Even when she tried to look down to avoid their patronizing stare, she was face to face with stolen police files. Time for Plan B, short for Plan Beetlejuice: Play Dumb. 

“No?” she answered with a questioning inflection.

“Sure, okay. This is fine, everything's fine,” they rambled sarcastically, their voice getting higher in pitch as they went. “You don’t vape, you just needed my help getting classified police files.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Lydia stressed, dropping the dumb card and deciding to rely on the truth to get her out of this.

“Really? ‘Cause it looks pretty bad!” Robin’s voice was hushed in case someone outside the office could hear them, but Lydia could hear the frustration in their tone. With the way they were fidgeting, Lydia was sure they’d be pacing if not for the cramped space. Then, they jabbed an accusatory finger at her. “Are you trying to cover something up? Did you do it?”

“Of course not,” Lydia avowed. She made an effort to not get defensive. Instead, she met their reproaching gaze with an equally earnest one, leaving the decision to trust her up to them. Even in the low light, she could see their wrestling conflict as clear as day. Eventually, their stern features softened with a deep sigh.

“I believe you,” they conceded. Lydia smiled, feeling relief at the prospect of having their trust again. 

“Look, I’m sorry I lied,” Lydia apologized, putting on an easy smirk. “Let’s just get out of here, and I promise I’ll explain everything.”

Robin considered her offer briefly before nodding. “Okay.”

They looked around Lydia at the door behind her and reached for where the handle was supposed to be. An unsettling amount of time passed in which Lydia didn’t hear the click of the door opening, and in that time, she started to realize just how small the closet was. She and Robin were barely a few inches apart, and they were surrounded by shelves and bins on all sides. Lydia hadn’t noticed it until that moment.

It was really, _really_ small.

_We'll be out soon,_ she reminded herself, taking in a shaky breath. _We'll be out–_

“It only opens from outside,” Robin concluded, scratching the top of their head in thought. “Could ya text Jazz and ask her to come get us?”

Little did they know Lydia stopped listening. She patted the door behind her with her free hand, searching for the handle she prayed was there. However, Robin was correct. There was no handle, which meant they were trapped. 

“No,” she mumbled, her heart racing and her mouth running dry. Suddenly, it felt like the walls were closing in. She smacked the door with her palm in the hopes that she could bust a hole through it. Nothing worked and they remained confined. “No no no no–“

“Are you okay?” Robin’s question answered itself when Lydia’s breathing picked up, resembling a pained wheeze. Her heartbeat in her ears blended with the thud of her kicking back into the door.

“Get me outta here!” she hissed through gritted teeth, staring straight up at the ceiling to avert the familiar sting of tears in her eyes. She already hated being in this death trap; she’ll be damned if she starts crying about it.

“Hey, hey, we’ll get out, I promise,” Robin spoke in a tone that was firm yet soothing. They sounded so sure of themself while Lydia already came to the conclusion that she was going to run out of oxygen. Putting their hands up where Lydia could see them, Robin continued softly, “I’m right here with you. Close your eyes and just listen to my voice. I’ll help you through this.” 

Lydia’s emotional brain was too stubborn to accept that anything could help her suffocating terror beyond kicking the door open. However, her rational brain trusted Robin not to make empty promises. Sucking in a strained breath, Lydia squeezed her eyes shut.

“Imagine you’re somewhere else, somewhere you like.” The start of Robin’s vision quest was so cliche, Lydia growled in annoyance. They picked up on the urgency and sped up without betraying any hint of weakness. “We’re back in the line to the haunted house. Wide-open space, and the scariest thing out there is the skinny guys wearing sweater vests on a sunny day.”

That coaxed a throaty laugh out of Lydia. It was over as soon as it started, leaving a warbled whine in its wake, but it meant progress.

“Is this working?” Robin checked, carefully placing one hand on her shoulder.

Lydia nodded, the tiniest of smiles breaking through her grimace. “Keep going,” she insisted as the memory danced across her eyes, distracting her from her present location.

“Right, uh,” Robin picked back up with their improvised scenario. “It’s just us in the line, you and me, k? And even though one of us is scared out of their mind, the other can be brave enough for both of them.”

Lydia had one hand balled into a fist at her side, but she could feel Robin’s hand trail down her arm and deftly cover hers. Her fingers immediately unfurled and latched onto the familiar contact. The rapid pounding in her ears slowed to a gentle thrum. Suddenly, she wasn’t in a tiny death box; she was waiting for a haunted house, a friendly kind of scare, with someone to whom she felt close. She recalled a smug sensation from seeing Robin so terrified while she was totally calm in that moment. Now, she felt reassured that Robin was _that_ calm in this moment.

“You’re safe,” they stated with such certainty it sent chills down Lydia’s spine. “I’m right here with you.”

With one final breath, Lydia released whatever scattered tension remained in her body. She heard Robin sigh in relief as well. They gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she felt their other hand graze her cheek. She flinched as their thumb brushed away a single rogue tear.

“Feeling better?” they asked, a chuckle playing at their voice.

“Yeah,” Lydia answered with a sniffle, trying to eliminate any other trace of her breakdown. “Thanks for–“

Lydia opened her eyes and found herself looking straight at Robin’s lips.

She willed herself to look away as soon as possible, but her eyes didn’t react until what felt like ages after. Now she was looking into their eyes, shaded by the darkness and yet as prominent and powerful as ever. Their lazy smirk fell when Lydia trailed off. She was suddenly all the more aware of their hand cradling her cheek and the shallow distance that separated them.

Neither of them moved a muscle. There seemed a silent agreement between the two, where any inch of movement would definitely lead to something else, something that scared them both. All it took was for one of them to get over that fear…

It was Lydia’s turn to be brave.

She tugged on Robin’s hand, enticing them forward while she perched up onto her toes. They started to lean in as well. Lydia let her eyes flutter shut, awaiting this new experience she didn’t know she craved…

Until she felt the door open behind her.

“Guys!” Jasmine shouted while yanking the door open. Lydia’s impulse to get out of the closet overtook her once more, and she practically shoved Robin away as leverage to push herself out of that death trap of a storage space. Jasmine jumped back while her friend damn near sprinted across the room.

“Woah,” she muttered, looking between Lydia and Robin, who was awkwardly stepping out of the closet. “You didn’t come out for a while, so I just came in to check on you…”

Neither of them said a word amidst Jasmine’s explanation, nor were they really paying attention. They were either daring to glance at one another or avoiding eye contact altogether. Robin’s sun-kissed face managed an even deeper shade of red. Lydia was sure she looked the same, though she could blame her flushed complexion on the impulsive five-yard dash.

Not on the fact that she and Robin nearly _kissed_.

That couldn’t be it at all.

Robin broke the palpable silence by coughing into their fist. ”I gotta get ready for my game,” they stated flatly, shuffling over to the door. They nodded in farewell to Jasmine, but when they looked at Lydia, their lips seemed to twitch into a habitual smirk. “See you tonight.”

“Yep,” Lydia replied, tucking her hair behind her ear. With that, Robin checked the hallway for any administrators and left the office. Lydia’s eyes lingered on the door for a moment longer before her idle mind was rudely interrupted.

”Should I have waited seven minutes?” Jasmine asked.

The glare Lydia sent her would have killed weaker mortals.

* * *

Lydia didn’t know a damn thing about soccer.

She’d been the designated photographer for the soccer team for over two months now, and she was still only ever 42% aware of what was going on at any moment. After 80 minutes of standing in the pouring rain with nothing but an umbrella keeping her camera lens clean, here’s what she knew: the game _should_ be over, but the score was 1-1. The Sharks had the lead but lost it to a late equalizer from their opponent, the Raiders. 

Lydia knew it was part of the game, but some part of her weird, dark heart always ached when Robin was scored on. They were experienced enough to react minimally, but they never failed to show just a smidge of disappointment. Lydia didn't know much about soccer, but she knew more about people...

Sort of.

Back to the game: The announcer had just announced a ‘Golden Goal’ period in which a single goal would end the game. If no one scores, they go into penalty kicks. The bottom line is this game has to have a winner to go on in the playoffs and a loser to be eliminated.

Lydia only hoped she wasn’t watching Robin’s last high school game. They’d had a rough day already (and Lydia had a hand in that, though no one needed to point fingers right now).

The Golden Goal period began like every other game. Lydia snapped a couple of pictures of Robin and the other two captains at the coin toss. Then, both teams took to the pitch, and the referee blew the whistle.

There was an immediate difference in the game. Both teams were dead tired yet more energized than ever. Tackles grew reckless, runs were more frequent with more speed, and everyone wanted to move the ball up the field as soon as possible. In what little Lydia knew about soccer, she could tell this is what desperate looked like.

She watched the game through the lens of her camera, occasionally snapping photos when the Sharks had the ball. They were on the attack, shooting at the Raiders’ goal at every possible opportunity. The quantity left very little room for quality. Every shot either went wide of the goal or straight to the keeper.

But one had to go in _eventually,_ right?

Lydia pulled away from the camera as the Raiders took possession. Surely, the Sharks would take the ball back soon enough, and she would resume her post. However, the opposition seemed to break through the midfield with ease. Suddenly, they were staging an attack on Robin’s goal.

Lydia was almost amused by how invested in this game she’d become. Two months ago she would be entirely detached. Now, her chest seemed to tighten and relax as the attack was squashed by the Sharks’ defense. Soon after, the Raiders’ midfield reclaimed the ball and set the attack back in motion. Now, Lydia was less amused and more worried about her team.

_No problem,_ Lydia thought to herself, her heart starting to race in response to the heat of the game. _Robin’s got this._

Decorated, skilled, highschool fairy-tale Robin.

She retook her position behind the camera and watched the play unfold. Raiders’ #17 passed to #2, who dribbled down the side toward the end line. #2 crossed the ball into the box, dropping it into the fray like the rain beating down.

The ball hit the ground.

Cleats and shinguards scrapped at each other to get to it. 

The smack of someone kicking the ball was heard throughout the stadium.

Lydia hit the shutter release.

And then the moment was gone.

The crowd was silent for a split second before creating a deafening roar around her. Lydia couldn't tell who was cheering and who was cursing the play. In capturing the play in her camera, she missed what actually happened. She quickly pulled back from the camera and scrolled through the shots. A forward on the other team shot the ball. Next photo, it was headed towards Robin and the goal. Last photo, the ball was in the back of the net.

Game over. 

Raiders win. Sharks lose.

Season over.

Lydia’s stomach dropped, and she mumbled to herself, “That's not good."

* * *

Lydia was pushed out of the stadium with the flow of spectators, but she couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not until she saw Robin. She didn’t need anything from them or have some super invasive questions. Hell, she wasn’t even trying to pursue whatever her feelings were edging her towards. Their four-year high school soccer career just came to an end before her eyes. She just wanted to make sure they were okay.

Lydia waited outside the locker rooms, watching all of Robin’s teammates head out with a solemn yet accepting air about them. A few of them acknowledged her presence, but none of them were the player for whom she was waiting. She counted the minutes between the present moment and when she last saw someone emerge from the door. When the number reached ten, Lydia took it upon herself to venture into the locker room.

If Lydia hadn’t spent the better part of her summer with a trash demon, she might have run at the mere stench of the room. The basket of waterlogged uniforms by the door only added to the putrid stink. Still, it was a far cry from what she had to deal with on the daily when sharing a living space with Beetlejuice.

Lydia wandered down the empty halls of black and white lockers until she found what she was looking for. Robin sat alone at the end of a wooden bench. Despite the fact that their baseball hat was on backward, they still managed to shadow their face by hanging their head.

When they didn’t immediately notice her, Lydia spoke out softly, “Hey.” 

They looked up from their hands to see her at the end of the lockers. While they didn’t adorn their usual smirk, they didn’t seem tragically devastated. Their face was flushed from the game and the rain chill, but their eyes were otherwise dry.

That didn’t mean they weren’t still undeniably sad.

“How ya doing?” Lydia followed up, leaning her shoulder against the nearest locker and folding her hands together.

“I’m good,” Robin stated flatly, turning their attention back to their hands–which were trembling, Lydia noticed. They gave her a mediocre shrug. “Just processing, I guess.”

“I can see that,” Lydia said, taking note of the ginger way their fingers brushed over their knuckles. They didn’t respond, choosing to let their own thoughts fester instead. They didn’t seem too keen on maintaining the conversation, which made her think they wanted to be alone. Lydia could’ve left. Who was she to deny them this time to themself?

Someone who knows ‘alone time’ is a remedy that seldom works.

Lydia took it upon herself to cross over to where they sat and settle right beside them. When they still didn’t acknowledge her, she nudged her shoulder into theirs. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“It’s just a game, Lyds,” they chuckled dismissively, the slightest crack in their voice. “I don’t think I need to feel it out. Just gotta get past it.”

The same Robin who claimed they ‘felt things very strongly’ was saying they didn’t need to feel. Lydia knew better than to trust their word when they physically betrayed something totally different. She now realized the fidgety folding of their hands was actually a way to hide their dominant hand, especially in how they covered their knuckles with their hoodie's sleeve.

Wordlessly, Lydia offered out her hand, opting not to reach as in accusation. Rather, she was silently inquiring of them. If and when they wanted, they had the option to share their damage, and she would hold their hand through it.

A long moment passed. Robin’s eyes darted between Lydia’s hand and their own. Then slowly, very slowly, they released their right hand and placed it in her palm. They looked away while she inspected their knuckles, red and warm with a mild swelling. Robin must’ve expected some kind of reproachful lecture, but Lydia knew that wouldn’t do anything good. ‘What’ they did was obvious, but the ‘why’ was an entirely different, much more tiring issue.

She’d stick to the ‘what’ for now. 'What' was easy.

“What’d you punch?” Lydia asked passively, no judgment whatsoever. 

Robin chanced to look back at her, considering the question and whether or not they wanted to answer. They eventually flicked their head at the object in mind. “My locker,” they revealed, their eyes trained on the ground. Lydia deftly handled their hand, enticing an instinctual twitch when she brushed over a particularly red knuckle. Robin winced and conceded, “A few times.”

Lydia slowly closed her palms around their hand, the heat of their skin greatly contrasting her icy temperature. Their shoulders stiffened, but they sighed out their tension through their nose. 

“Take it from me,” Lydia advised gently. “If you keep everything bottled up inside, it’ll boil over and blow up everything around you.”

She wasn’t going to tell them to let the matter drop and move on. She knew that was an awful idea. The last time someone tried to make her move on, she summoned a demon, kicked her dad out of the house, and mentally scarred several people. She really couldn’t judge Robin if they punched a locker. All she could do was keep them from, well…summoning a demon, etc. 

Basically, anything destructive. And while she loathed how she was totally ‘Delia’-ing the situation, hitting metal until your hand throbs fell into that category.

The corner of Robin’s mouth twitched into a very small smirk. “You’re not gonna leave until I talk, are you?”

“Not exactly,” Lydia replied, sliding closer to them until their shoulders were right up against one another. “I’ll leave when I’m more certain that you’re not gonna punch your locker again. Whether or not you need to talk is up to you.”

They stifled a half-hearted laugh, their gaze flickering between the ground and their locker. After a pause, they let out a husky sigh.

“I‘m angry,” they admitted with a tight-lipped grin. Lydia listened patiently, keeping their hand covered while they continued, “At myself. I feel like I let my whole team down.”

Lydia hummed in response, though not in agreement. She watched the whole game and judging by the frustrated shouts of the crowd throughout the competition, there were plenty of mishaps. Robin wasn’t behind all of them. From where she sat, losing was a team effort.

Maybe she did know something about sports.

“A bit extreme to blame yourself for the outcome of a whole game,” she proposed, narrowing her eyes skeptically.

“I have one job, Lydia,” they pointed out, holding up a finger. “Don’t get scored on.”

“Sure,” Lydia nodded. “But if that really is your job, you only failed twice in about 90 minutes.”

“Twice was more than plenty.”

“But still less than the 90 minutes your teammates spent not scoring.” 

They didn’t have an immediate rebuttal for that argument. They remained silent for a while, digesting Lydia’s wisdom. It was nothing they hadn’t heard before, but it mattered now more than after any other previous loss. 

“Losing still sucks,” they snorted bluntly. Lydia rolled her eyes fondly.

“Then definitely feel sad that you lost, but don’t pin it all on yourself.” With her last bit of advice, she rested her head on their shoulder. “We all make mistakes. You can’t get a gold star in everything.”

A full smile finally broke out onto their face, though they tried to hide it by biting their lip. Eventually, they overcame their stubbornness and nodded along in agreement. “You’re right, you’re right,” they said, giving her a grateful look and briefly squeezing her hand. “Thanks, Lydia. I feel a lot less inclined to deck my locker.”

“You’re welcome,” Lydia shrugged, feeling plenty satisfied with that reassurance. The room was all but silent save for the buzz of the struggling ceiling lights. Their head gradually moved to lean against hers. Lydia abandoned the effort to cool their hand with hers and was instead half-hugging their arm. She hadn’t realized a week without this kind of proximity made her miss it so badly. She may have been there to help Robin, but this exchange was mutually beneficial.

“So…” they began, breaking the temporary pause in dialogue. “…Claustrophobia?”

Lydia scrunched her nose in embarrassment at the question. With a defiant groan, she nuzzled her face against their shoulder in an attempt to hide from the truth. However, Robin’s smug snortle at her reaction told her they already knew they were right.

“God, it’s so bad,” Lydia confirmed, dread filling her voice. She tugged on Robin’s arm repeatedly like a defiant child. “And you can’t tell anybody. I’ve never told anyone about it. I don’t even think my dad knows.” She made it a rule to avoid cramped spaces, and she’d been successful until that afternoon. However, she had a reputation to uphold–within her tiny circle–and she didn’t need Robin telling everyone she was deconstructed in small spaces. 

“Seriously?” Robin quirked an eyebrow. “Guess I should consider myself lucky.”

Lydia kicked their foot playfully before comfortably settling against them again. “I think the only other person who knows is my mom,” she pondered aloud, a warm melancholy feeling flooding her stomach. Her mom always knew how to keep her distracted in tight spots. “Once when I was five, she took me up into one of her planes, and the cockpit was so small, I completely freaked out.”

While Lydia was reminiscing, Robin narrowed their eyes curiously. “Your mom flew planes?”

“Yeah,” Lydia answered proudly. “She was a pilot in the Navy.”

“Is this rum balls mom or life coach mom?”

“Rum balls.”

Lydia liked being able to talk about her mom. Every time felt like an unraveling in her chest, like fulfilling an essential need. It was a solemn kind of euphoria, reliving her memories while knowing they were all she had left. That, and Robin was just so easy to talk to. It wasn’t a taboo topic at all, just natural conversation. Jasmine did say she should be more vulnerable…

…but she hadn’t been that vulnerable until then. 

“Wait a minute!” Lydia released their arm and sat up straight. They flashed an expectant smirk, waiting for her to figure it out. She figured it out alright, but she had no idea how _they_ figured it out. 

She never told them about her Dead Mom.

“How long have you known?” she demanded.

They cleared their throat and explained, “I had my suspicions when you always called Delia by her first name, but when you told me that story at homecoming–” Lydia forgot they were even conscious for that story. “–I knew Delia and your ‘mom’ were two completely different people.”

Lydia hesitated in responding. She didn’t exactly know how to feel. She was relieved that she didn’t have to fully explain her life’s major tragedy, but part of her wished she could. This whole ‘being vulnerable’ thing lost it kick when Lydia didn’t even have to try.

“Why didn’t you ask until now?” she asked, her voice much softer than before.

“Never felt it was my place to pry,” Robin answered sincerely. “But it sounded to me like you want to talk about her just now.”

Lydia smiled and looked down at her hands. She couldn’t help it. When she started thinking about her mom, it overtook her mind. Robin picked up on that, as easily as she read them most of the time.

“Up to you, of course,” they added with a warm expression and a shrug. “We’ve already had an emotional night.”

Lydia thought over their offer. After a moment, she nodded at the suggestion. Robin lifted one leg over to the other side of the bench so they were completely facing her, listening attentively whenever Lydia wanted to start. When she did, she spoke very slowly, choosing her words in conscious awareness of her own emotions.

“Delia is my stepmom. My mother’s name was Emily. She, uh…” Lydia trailed off, picking at the lace at the hem of her gloves. A lump started to form in the back of her throat. She swallowed hard to make it go away. “You don’t hear about it a lot, but military personnel run a very high risk of skin cancer.”

The implication was clear. Lydia didn’t want to look up to see pity on Robin’s face, so she kept her focus trained on her fraying gloves. They didn’t say anything. Lydia was almost relieved. She was worried if they said anything, or if she tried to add anything else, she’d break. Being vulnerable was great until it actually hurt.

In a very slow movement, Robin brought an arm across her shoulders. By the subtle tug on her arm and their natural gravity, Lydia leaned into their chest while they brought their other arm around her. Their grey hoodie smelled crisp and fresh, and she felt covered in their natural warmth.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, more trying to convince herself to keep the familiar prickling sensation of tears out of her eyes. “It’s been over a year. I don’t need to–“

A sudden heave of breath cut her off and proved her wrong. She could feel Robin’s arms tighten around her, but she didn’t fight it. They were silently telling her she didn’t need to keep going. She didn’t need to prove herself to them. She was allowed to be vulnerable.

_ Oh. There it is. _

“It’s okay to cry, Lydia,” Robin soothed, rubbing her arm in slow, calming strokes. Just saying the word ‘cry’ made Lydia want to fold completely, though she settled for quietly weeping into their sleeve. “It’s the first and most precious sign of being human.”

Lydia managed to maintain enough composure to wipe the fresh tears from her eyes and snort in a joke, “That and screwing up.”

“Then we are two very human people.”

Robin’s response made them both erupt in a fit of solemn laughter. Lydia buried her face in their shoulder, fully sinking into their embrace. She wasn’t a big fan of being coddled, but she didn’t hate Robin’s steady presence. While they gently rocked back and forth, Lydia was grateful for how they knew exactly what she needed to hear, when she needed to hear it. They even knew when nothing else needed to be said. Lydia didn’t even know she needed this.

“The hell?” she warbled with a shaky smile. “I came down here to comfort you. Not turn it around on me.”

“I lost a soccer game, boo hoo,” Robin retorted, refusing to let their issues trump Lydia’s. She couldn’t tell if it was selfless or defective, but she didn’t rebuff them. “The loss of someone you love…” they continued, pressing their lips together and shaking their head. “That can never get enough comfort.”

As Lydia’s suppressed sobbing came to an end, Robin’s chin settled atop her head. Even though she would have happily remained with them like that, she reluctantly pushed herself out of their extended hug. Robin’s arms went slack and fell onto their knees while Lydia hastily wiped away the tear streaks from her face.

“Seriously, you’ve been there for me more times than I can count,” Robin went on, leaning their elbows on their knees and looking at her earnestly. “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’ll be there for you in a heartbeat.”

Lydia smiled doubtfully. She didn’t know if she deserved that kind of vow. “Even after a trainwreck like today?” she asked skeptically.

“Especially after a trainwreck like today,” they affirmed without hesitation.

A minute of silence passed, the weight of Robin’s words hanging between them. Lydia was brought back to that afternoon. Not the shrinking box of horrors, but the feeling of safety. That steadfast assurance that came from being close to them, and they were close right now.

Almost as close as they had been in the closet. 

She could’ve done it. Tried to kiss them again. They didn’t seem opposed to the idea earlier. However, a small voice in the back of her head told her no. This moment was already so many things. A reality check for Robin, a sob session for Lydia–it didn’t need any other major developments to be full.

Instead, she took a harmless approach. She grabbed the front of their hoodie, tugged them closer, and placed a gentle peck on their cheek. She lingered for a second before pulling back and smirking. 

“You’re a good person, Robin,” she told them like it was the only thing of which she was certain. Their brows were knit together, a look of uncertainty fused with fondness riddled across their face. Lydia stood up and fixed the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Robin’s eyes seemed to follow her the entire time. They didn’t say anything, so neither did Lydia, and then she left.

Walking down the hall and out of the locker room, Lydia felt oddly content. She hadn’t talked about her mom in a while. Her dad had been so busy, and she wasn’t home enough these days to even see him or the Maitlands. Now, she had a confidant beyond the walls of her house. 

Alive, safe, _normal_ Robin.

Who had very loud footsteps when they ran, she might add.

“Hey Lydia!” they yelled as they burst through the locker room doors. Lydia stopped and turned around to see them sprinting down the hall. By the time they made it to her, they forgot to slow down and nearly stumbled to avoid barreling straight into her. They held up a hand, asking for a moment while they sucked in huge, gasping breaths to recover from their sudden sprint. Lydia waited patiently while they found their voice. After coughing into their fist, they rushed out, “Um, do you wanna go out sometime?”

Lydia couldn’t believe her ears. “What?”

“I know it’s a weird time to ask, but, erm,” they stammered, scratching their neck sheepishly. “I really like you. I-I think you’re really cool and interesting and, uh, I think maybe you like me, too?”

They ended it like a question, though if Lydia’s burning cheeks were any indication, they had made a fair assumption. After all, she was thinking about kissing them barely a minute ago. 

But hold on, did they just say _they_ liked _her?_

“So I was wondering if you’d be interested in going out on a date,” they finished with much more confidence than with which they began. Lydia was struggling to fight a dumbstruck smile from taking over her face when they added, “With me. On a date. With the intention of dating.” 

Lydia couldn’t help but laugh. It did seem like this conversation should have already happened, but alas, they hadn’t had a ‘first date’ yet.

“Just making sure we both know this is a date,” they chuckled, gesturing loosely to the two of them. “This would be a date situation.”

“Right, right,” Lydia agreed, biting her lip. She nodded her head and shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Really?” Robin blurted out, elation and surprise evident in their voice. “Great, uh, yeah I’ll text you about it. You free this weekend?”

“Probably.”

“Cool, cool,” they sputtered out, looking redder than they did during the game. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“You better,” Lydia replied, turning to leave before she lost her cool. “Night.”

Robin headed back down the hall towards the locker room while Lydia was left to go up the stairs. She took the steps two at a time until she was behind a corridor and for sure out of sight. Then, her legs suddenly felt like jelly and her head started to spin. She leaned back against the wall to keep from falling even though part of her felt like she was flying. 

Robin asking her out may have been the most normal thing to happen in the last year, but it was still a far cry from small or insignificant.

She’s definitely gonna try this ‘being vulnerable’ thing more often.


	12. Perfect's Overrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia and Robin's long-awaited *official* first date!

“Lydia?”

“Not now, I’m busy.”

“Shouldn’t you take a break?”

“Heck no!” Lydia snapped at the cautious ghosts attempting to reign her in from her present task. Adam left the task to Barbara seeing as he was just a tad intrigued by what was going on. There were papers scattered across the attic floor. Lydia stood over them with her arms crossed. She had printed all of the pictures she’d taken in Griffs’ office. Now, she was trying to piece the puzzle together.

Or at least make a start.

“Honey, you’ve been at this hours.” Barbara's tone was equal parts nurturing and admonishing as she gently rubbed the sides of Lydia’s arms while simultaneously tried to pull her away from her post. Lydia resisted, making the she-ghost sigh “I’m not even sure what you’re looking for.”

“I’m looking for something that doesn’t make sense,” Lydia answered monotonously, much to the confusion of her dead guardians. The gradual development of bags under her eyes was the only change in her expression over time. She remained as deep in thought as ever, her demeanor as focused on the papers as her mind.

“I’ll tell you what doesn’t make sense.” Barbara talked over her shoulder while she went around the room, idly tidying up the place. “A sixteen-year-old solving a case that was closed by the county police.”

“There’s no way they would’ve closed the case as fast as they did,” Lydia countered, stubborn as ever. She smacked her fist into the palm of her other hand. “It has to be Griffs. I’m sure of it!”

Barbara sighed again. “Well, let’s not point fingers just yet.”

“Fingers…” Lydia mumbled. The word felt familiar in her brain. It was like she’d heard it before in reference to the matter at hand. In fact, it brought her back to the very dance that sparked this whole controversy, when she and Jasmine first found the empty liquor bottles. Jasmine told her not to touch them because of her… “Fingerprints!”

“What are you going on about now?” Barbara asked with her hands on her hips.

“The first thing the police would have looked at are fingerprints on the bottles,” Lydia explained, feverishly sifting through the papers in front of her. “That would surely give them at least one suspect unless...” 

Right then, she found it: the documentation of fingerprints taken from the bottles. There was only one name under the results. However, next to the name was an asterisk, noting that they were the prints of the person who found the bottle after the dance.

Lydia proudly held up the photocopy for the ghosts to see. “…they were from the same faculty member who found them right after the dance."

The Maitlands read the name ‘Trevor Griffs’ under the police file’s results.  “Wow,” Adam thought out loud, scratching his chin. “I suppose that’s a decent hunch. Good sleuthing, kiddo!”

Lydia beamed smugly at his validation. Barbara, on the other hand, wasn’t as convinced as her husband.

“I think you’re watching too many crime shows.” 

Lydia’s smirk faltered just a bit before giving way to a relieved grin. Finding that one bit of information in the case was the first step. As much as she wanted to keep searching, her common sense–and her drooping eyelids–were screaming at her to wait and give herself a rest before picking this project up later. 

“I can finally go to sleep,” she groaned, pulling out her phone and checking the time. She tilted her head curiously. She could have sworn she was up for hours, but it was still fairly early in the night. “It’s only ten?”

“Isn’t Robin picking you up at noon?” Barbara nudged her in her side. “For your date?”

Lydia tried to control her reaction, but her lips tugged upward against her wishes. The police case was instantly pushed from her mind, leaving warm memories of a lopsided smile and a big letterman jacket. It barely felt real. With all the craziness going on in her life, she could barely believe that she was doing something normal.

“Yeah, but that’s not until Saturday,” Lydia eventually answered Barbara. She wished it was already Saturday. She’d spent the last day and a half trying not to stress about it. It wasn't like she'd never been along with Robin; that's happened on several occasions. What made this time any different?

“Uh, Lydia?” Adam interjected, glancing at Barbara. “It is Saturday.”

“No, it’s Friday.”

“It’s Saturday.” He pointed to the clock on the wall. “Ten a.m.”

Lydia blinked in disbelief before trudging over to the window. She yanked back the curtain and was seized by a chokingly rapid sense of panic when the unhindered sunlight flooded into the attic. She jumped behind the cover of the wall and wiped the glare from her eyes. Once her vision returned to normal, she gazed wide-eyed at the Maitlands.

“I’m so screwed.”

* * *

Time seems to fly when one is sleep-deprived. Two hours turned into two minutes inside Lydia’s tired brain. There wasn’t a single second that she wasn't active. Between cleaning up the police files, making herself presentable, and chugging a dangerous amount of coffee, she was lucky she was able to sit down on the couch with ten minutes to spare.

With her fingers wrapped around or fourth cup of coffee–or fifth, she honestly lost track–she felt herself sink into the cushions. The warmth of the drink hitting her face paired with the rare moment of stillness only dragged her further towards the temptation of sleep. She had time, right? There was no harm in closing her eyes for just a sec–

“Boo!”

“AH!”

And just like that, her serene moment was gone.

Leave it to Beetlejuice to catch her when she _least_ wants to be scared. To make matters worse, her startled jump made her coffee go everywhere. She grunted when she felt the sting hit her legs.

“Wow, kid, you’re losing your touch!” Beetlejuice gloated, oblivious to Lydia’s annoyance at the hot coffee on her black jeans. “You spilled your coffee, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Lydia retorted through gritted teeth. She set her mug off to the side and futility tried to dry out the coffee stain with her sleeve. Alas, it wouldn’t dry fast enough.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

_ They’re early! _ Lydia thought with a start.  _ Of course, they’re early. It’s Robin. _

“Ooh! Someone’s at the door!” Beetlejuice zoomed towards the front of the house. He sent Lydia big, pleading eyes with a hint of mischief. “Can I answer it?!”

“No!” Lydia shouted all too quickly. She immediately slapped her hand over her mouth when she remembered that the unknowing ears on the other side of the door could hear her yelling at, well, _nothing_. 

“Why not?” Beetlejuice whined, dejected at the missed opportunity to scare some poor sap.

“Because it’s Robin,” Lydia answered as though that would automatically make him understand. She stood from the couch and rushed to the stairs, being careful to duck under the window and remain unseen. On her way up the stairs, she ran into Delia.

“Delia, perfect!” Lydia tiptoed around her on the stairs. “Robin’s at the door. I need a few minutes. Can you stall for me?”

“Stall?” Delia repeated, taking in the rush of information flying at her. “Why don’t you just tell them you’re not ready?”

“Please?” Lydia pleaded, already at the top of the stairs. She didn’t want to tell them she needed to change her pants because she spilled coffee on them due to her best friend, a floating demon, scared her half to death, and she was chugging coffee all morning because she stayed up all night as if she didn’t care at all about their impending date. 

Knowing Robin, they would hear that story and completely skip over the demon part. All they’d hear is ‘I got no sleep’ and be so caring that they’d cancel their date so Lydia wouldn’t die of sleep deprivation, _that courteous asshole!_

“Just talk to them about veganism or something!” Lydia yelled as she ran down the hall. “They’re an athlete, they like healthy things!”

With that, she disappeared from sight. Delia didn’t question her anymore, but Beetlejuice was scratching his head. Lydia was acting weird and not a _good_ kind of weird. Taking a scare without so much as a laugh? Asking Delia to talk about her meatless diet? Spilling her coffee? Last he checked, the living preferred to drink their coffee rather than spill it. She was definitely acting out of sorts.

Beetlejuice made himself invisible, looming just over the foyer as Delia opened the door. She invited the person inside, and in walked the They-Breather Lydia had been spending so much time around. Raven? Roadrunner? Beetlejuice couldn’t remember their name. With how often they were in this house, Beetlejuice was surprised they weren’t dead yet. 

He didn’t understand feelings very well. Lydia doesn’t seem to want to kill them like he initially predicted (much to his disappointment). She didn’t take too kindly to his suggestion to jump their bones. All they ever did when they hung out was study. Beetlejuice understood that in one respect and one respect only: The more time they spent together, the less time Lydia spent haunting the house with him.

He needed to investigate the competition.

Neither Delia nor Robin could see Beetlejuice follow them into the kitchen. The former was offering the ladder a sample of her latest vegan pastry. Meanwhile, Beetlejuice was merely floating above Robin’s head. His glare could bury the kid. He didn’t know for what exactly he was looking. A weakness, an advantage–something to explain why they were a more suitable use of Lydia’s time than him.

_ Time for a few tests... _

* * *

After changing into a less coffee-stained pair of black jeans, Lydia bounded down the stairs with a reinvigorated flood of energy. With no more mind space being taken up by how tired she was, she was now free to focus on the tinge of excitement mixed with a nauseating splash of nerves. She’d battled demons, danced with the recently deceased, but for some reason, doing something as normal as going on a date with a friend from school was zapping her insides with high voltage electricity.

From the bottom of the stairs, she could hear them making casual conversation with Delia in the kitchen. Once she turned the corner and looked down the hall, she saw them leaning against the counter with their arms crossed. They appeared as calm and collected as ever, a great contrast to how Lydia was feeling inside. It even had the vicarious effect of making her a little calmer.

At least, that was until she looked behind them.

Beetlejuice was hovering right behind their head, his face screwed up in intense focus. Lydia was about to say something but she clamped her hand over her mouth at the last second. What was she going to say? _‘Robin! Look out! My pet demon is floating right above your head, but you can’t see him! Did I mention I can see dead people?’_

Lydia grabbed onto the hand railing to steady herself. The nervous jitters came back but for entirely different reasons. If this was her reaction to Beetlejuice just hovering, imagine how she felt when he blew against Robin’s ear. The ladder shivered, thinking nothing of a draft in the room in early November. Then, Beetlejuice poked the back of their head with one of his jagged nails. Robin swatted at the back of their head. When Delia asked what was wrong, they made a comment about a mosquito or something of the like.

Then, Beetlejuice started snapping, making sparks fly from his fingers. That’s when Lydia decided to intervene.

“Robin! Hi!” Lydia nearly sprinted into the kitchen before grabbing Robin’s hand and subtly steering them away from the counter. Beetlejuice gave her a dejected look, like a toddler whose favorite toy was taken away. Lydia merely flicked her head as if to say, _‘Time out!’_

“Someone’s eager to get going." Robin's chuckle drew Lydia’s attention away from the floating demon. 

“Um, yeah,” Lydia stammered out, going along with it so she wouldn’t have to explain her erratic behavior. “I’m just so excited to go to…”

“I haven’t told you where we’re going yet.”

“Right,” Lydia sighed out. Thankfully, Robin didn’t seem too put off. If anything, they were pleasantly amused and a bit intrigued. Intrigued is good. Lydia can work with intrigued.

“Well, we don’t wanna be late,” Lydia declared, starting towards the door. 

“You still don’t know what we’re doing."

“But I just can’t wait to find out!” Lydia flung the door open and sent a forced smile towards the kitchen. “Bye Delia!”

“Have fun!”

Lydia practically dragged Robin out of the house. Once outside, she could finally release a sigh of relief. She didn’t think it would ever become an issue, but her house is probably the most dangerous place for a living person. Getting Robin out of her house meant they were safe.

Robin, on the other hand, couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m just having major deja vu,” they explained when Lydia gave them a questioning look. “Back to the haunted house. You hauling me around, all excited and me–” they swallowed hard and looked off to the side “–being scared out of my mind.”

Lydia’s heart softened at their hasty confession. “Hey,” she said, tugging at their hand. “You’re not allowed to be scared. You asked me out, remember?”

That gave Robin’s confidence the push it needed. “Yeah, you’re right.” They started walking off the porch, leading Lydia over to their car. They only let go of her hand to open the passenger-side door for her. “And it’s gonna be a perfect first date.”

“Perfect’s overrated,” Lydia noted.

“You just have to be a little left-of-center, don’t you?”

“If you’ve learned anything from me, it better be that life’s more interesting that way.”

Robin conceded with a snort and closed the door. As they made their way around the car to the driver’s side, Lydia took one last moment to take a deep breath and ready herself for, as Robin declared, a ‘perfect first date.’

_ How hard can this be? _

* * *

“And here we are!” Robin announced after they entered whatever building they were in. After parking their car in a jam-packed parking lot, Robin hopped out of the car and insisted Lydia kept her eyes closed until they were actually inside. Lydia could see them practically teeming with excitement, so she did as they asked. She got a weird thrill from being blindly led through a parking lot, or maybe it was just the way Robin stood so close, their hands just under her elbows to steer her in the right direction, that made her stomach flutter.

When Lydia finally opened her eyes, she found herself in a dark room covered in neon lights. All around were colorful machines surrounded by swarming teenagers, jittery children, and tired-looking parents. It reminded Lydia of Fairway Frights, just without the mulchy smell. That, and instead of looking like a tired employee, Robin looked like a kid in a candy store.

“Welcome to the Brunswick Arcade!” they said with the brightest smile on their face. “The venue for our entertainment.”

Lydia marveled at the mere size of the place. It wasn’t just an arcade; it had a bowling alley, laser tag, and a diner-style bar. The vibrant colors illuminating the otherwise dark building reminded her of her house while she and Beetlejuice haunted it last year. The lights made her white graphic tee turn purple. She laughed when she saw what it did to Robin.

“You look like a traffic cone,” she chortled. Robin pulled at the opening of their orange flannel.

“Yeah, I kinda got into the habit of wearing bright clothes whenever I come here.”

“You come here often?” Robin nodded at her question, and Lydia smirked. “Are you like one of those TV jocks who takes all the girls on the same first date?”

“God no!” Robin laughed in spite of themself. “Nah, I just came here a lot as a kid, and I would be so excited to try all the games that I would run all over the place. My grandpa could never keep up with me and I always got lost, so my parents made sure I wore something bright and distinguishable so he could always spot me in a room covered in dark lights.”

They stopped in front of a coin machine, and Robin pulled out their wallet. They took out a twenty and fed it to the coin machine while holding an oversized soda cup under the coin drop.

“Wow, big spender,” Lydia teased.

“It’s a system, Lyds." They puffed out their chest. “Over time, I’ve figured out how to turn twenty dollars in quarters into the ideal arcade sweep. It’s taken years of blowing my allowance to perfect it.”

Lydia pursed her lips. When all the coins finished pouring into the cup, she plucked the cup from Robin’s grasp.

“What did I say about perfect?” Lydia chastised fondly before they could object. She thought she would look clever, doing something so unexpected and shaking things up a bit. But then she actually turned to face the vast display of games and rides in front of her and realized she had absolutely no idea what to start with.

This must have been what tiny Robin felt like before they had their perfect arcade sweep.

“Ya know, it’s not that bad to go into things with a plan,” Robin mused. They flashed a smug grin when they saw her mildly lost expression.

“That’s not really how I operate.” Lydia shook her head. Then, she sheepishly looked off to the side and pushed the coin cup back towards Robin. “However, I may be willing to ask for assistance on occasion.”

They took the cup with a gracious smile before taking her hand and leading her off into neon chaos.

* * *

An hour seemed to fly by. Robin’s road map of the arcade led them from car races to crane machines to whack-a-mole, and it ended at the all-too-famous skeeball. Through every game, mindless banter ensued as it usually did, except now it was fueled by the rush of competition. Robin quickly realized that one didn’t need to be an all-star athlete to be competitive as hell. 

The wins and losses were well balanced between the two of them. At least, that was until Lydia watched Robin confidently sink all eight of their skee balls into the ten pockets.

“Are you letting me win?” 

“What?!” Robin rebuffed her accusation with an incredulous tone, though a hitch in their voice gave them away. “I would never do that!”

“You totally are!” Lydia jabbed them in the shoulder. She couldn’t help the laughter despite her annoyance. “Rematch, and no holding back!”

“As much as I’d love to crush your skee ball dreams,” they said, picking up the now empty soda cup. “I’m afraid we’ve reached the end of my arcade sweep.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at their grin. They seemed so proud of themself. How dare they coddle her! She’d obviously proven she can beat them at a good half of the arcade games.

Unless…

“Wait a sec. How many games did you let me win?” 

“I’m not telling."

“So it was more than this once?!” Lydia whined in disbelief. She should have known sooner. If Robin knew this place inside out, it stands to reason that they were also a master of every game on their perfect little plan. “Why?”

They shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Well, I hope it was worth half of your coins,” she snorted, flicking the empty soda cup.

“It was.”

What Lydia didn’t realize was that every time she won a game, she would jump around and dance excitedly with a great big smile on her face. Robin would have thrown every game if they didn’t know she would get suspicious almost immediately. But seeing her that happy was better than any skee ball win.

“One more game.” Lydia held up a lone finger. “I get to pick, and you’re not allowed to hold back.”

Robin rolled their eyes at her offer, but they nodded their head in agreement. “Fine. What do you wanna play?”

Lydia scanned the room, searching for a game in which she was sure she could beat Robin. Knowing they could have been throwing half the games made the decision difficult until her eyes landed on a large, medieval door in the back of the room.

“Laser tag!”

* * *

The Laser tag arena was even darker than the arcade. The only light came from the harnesses worn by kids of all ages as they ran about. There were ominous-looking structures all around, some of which could be entered by ramps or hidden passages. Hip hop radio music played over the intercom, and the other sound that could be heard was the occasional pitter-patter of running feet. And the beat of one’s heart in their ears due to adrenaline.

After Lydia and Robin had signed up for the next game and made certain they would be placed on opposing teams, they were separated right before the beginning of the match.

Then, the game was on.

Lydia had yet to run into Robin head-on, but that didn’t stop her from scoring as many points as possible by shooting anyone whose harness glowed red. She’d also made certain to avoid being shot. On the odd occasion, some kid around the corner of a fake boulder would tag her, making the blue lights on her harness flash on and off for a while. When this happened she would find the nearest hiding spot and wait for her ‘life’ to regenerate so she could shoot again.

At the moment, she was wandering around on the ground level, just underneath a bridge. She spotted a whole flock of kids in red-light harnesses and decided to take cover until they passed. She made haste in ducking into a small room under one of the towers. If she stayed close to the wall and crouched in the corner, then she could go unnoticed. Much to her relief, the search party of elementary schoolers passed by the tower without looking into the small walled-off space she was hiding in.

Lydia let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her adrenaline had been pumping in the heat of competition, but now she could finally take a moment to relax.

But then she heard someone whistle behind her.

“This town ain’t big enough for the two of us,” Robin menaced in a bad southern accent. They ditched their bright orange flannel before the match, leaving them in only their black sleeveless hoodie. In the dim light, their arms flexed to train their gun on the target.

Lydia pouted and stood up, leaning against the wall. “You’d really shoot me while I’m cornered?” 

“You were the one who said not to hold back.” Their smirk looked so evil in the red light, Lydia could’ve placed them as the dark, mildly-unhinged, generally-sexy antihero in some sci-fi dystopian film. The one that every fangirl has a crush on because no one can see evil if it's attractive.

Which gave her an idea.

“Okay fine, but before you shoot,” Lydia bargained, cautiously putting her hands up in surrender and glancing around the entrance. “Is there anyone around?”

Robin peered out the opening they came in through. “No.” Their grip on their gun went slack for just a moment before snapping back into position.“Why? Hoping some of your teammates will save you?”

“No, dummy.” Lydia rolled her eyes, making a show of holding out her free hand and beckoning them over with one finger.

Robin’s stance shifted, and they once again lowered their gun. They took another look around the entrance, this time actually making sure no one else was around. Then, they glanced back at Lydia with a furrowed brow, silently asking if she was really suggesting what they thought she was suggesting.

Lydia nodded, a sly smirk sliding onto her face.

Robin’s shoulders went slack, the army-esque posture leaving them for good as they slowly walked across the room. They took Lydia’s offered hand in their own, and Lydia abruptly tugged them towards her. Robin lost their footing, and it was all they could do to keep from falling. They braced their forearm against the wall, right above Lydia’s head, bringing their face mere inches from hers.

Staring right into her eyes brought Robin back to the principal's office, beyond the dishonesty and sudden attack of claustrophobia to their _almost_ kiss. The circumstances now, with the setting being an actual date with no caveats or consequences, were even more inviting than they were back then. This time, when Lydia started leaning in, Robin felt no reservation in following suit and closing their eyes…

And that’s when they heard the laser.

“What?!” Robin pushed themself off the wall and looked down at their flickering laser-tag vest. Then, their astonished glare settled on Lydia’s aimed gun.

Lydia shrugged with a devious smirk. “Shouldn’t have put your guard down.”

“You’re so evil!" Robin laughed out the accusation. At around the same time, their lights stopped flickering, signaling they could shoot again. More importantly, they could _be shot_ again, so Lydia pulled the trigger once more. 

Robin’s arms dropped to their sides. “Really?!”

“Yes, really,” Lydia chuckled, thankful for the low light so they couldn’t see the heat rushing to her face. It may have been a setup, but Lydia was _very_ tempted to give up the plot. She started sliding across the wall towards the nearest exit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna run before you can shoot me.”

And with that, she bolted.

Robin shook their head, and eventually, their lights stopped flickering again.

“Get back here!”

* * *

Time flew by to find the rivals-in-arms meeting a truce at the refreshments bar outside the laser tag arena. The results of the match were to be released within the half-hour, so they had that time to sit by and enjoy wings and milkshakes under the neon lights. During that time, Lydia resumed uncovering a mystery that far outweighed the Griffs conspiracy… 

“Jenna.”

“Nope.”

“Jennifer.”

“Nah ah.”

“Jenniveve.”

“My middle name is not a variation of Jen,” Robin laughed before taking a sip of their chocolate shake.

“Dang it!” Lydia slapped a hand on the shiny countertop. “I thought I was getting close.”

After guzzling their drink for a few sips, Robin set their drink down. “I have a serious question.” Lydia furrowed her brow before slowly nodding, and they asked, “Why did you need to get into the office on Thursday?”

The question hit Lydia like a steel plate to the mouth, and she found herself lost for the answer. She turned to her milkshake and idly swirled the straw through the frothy whipped cream. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Robin’s face leaning into her peripheral vision.

“You promised you’d explain.”

“I did,” Lydia replied tentatively, mentally constructing an explanation that made sense without the assistance of her stay-at-home ghosts. She swiveled in her bar stool and clapped her hands in her lap. “If I tell you, can you swear you’ll keep it a secret?”

“Yeah, sure.” Robin pinched their fingers and drew them from one corner of their lips to the other. “Lips are sealed.”

Lydia sucked in a preparation breath. Her trust for Robin was unquestionable; that wasn’t the problem. There was another detail besides her ghost friends she was reluctant to share. However, she was sure she could figure a way around it. 

“I think I know who spiked the punch at homecoming,”

And so she told them everything. From Griffs’ senior picnic to the suspicious transfer of power from Fenwick to Griffs to the police reports. Although, _everything_ may be giving her too much credit. She decided to leave out a key player from her theory: Robin’s mom. Lydia knew mentioning her would drive some kind of divide. Whether that divide would be between Robin and their mom or Robin and her, Lydia couldn’t say for sure. But she wasn’t going to risk it either.

“Wow,” Robin said once Lydia finished the explanation. “That’s an interesting lead.” Their brows knit together. “Why are you so worried about it?”

Lydia shrugged. “It affected a lot of my friends. Jamie, Adri…and you.” Lydia could see the corner of their mouth tug up in a sly smirk, and it was all she could do to save face. “I just don’t like the culprit running free.”

“Okay.” They nodded. “So what do you need from me?”

“You? Nothing. I didn’t want you to get involved in the first place.”

“Too late, I got involved.” At Robin’s enthusiasm, Lydia rolled her eyes and grabbed another wing from their shared plate. Their shoulders sagged at her indifference. “Come on, there is no way you would’ve gotten those case files without me.”

“While that’s true, you’re already so busy with school and work and–“

“Wasn’t it you who said I should enjoy my senior year?”

“Does pinning a crime on our headmaster sound enjoyable?”

They leaned an elbow on the counter and bit their lower lip. “It is if I’m with you.”

Lydia glared daggers at them. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“You say things like that, and then you look at me like…” She gestured vaguely to their relaxed eyes and inviting smile. “… _that._ And you think it’ll let you win every argument, but I’m putting my foot down on this one.”

Robin sighed, leaning forward and tilting their head so they were now looking up at Lydia out from under their brow. A moment paused of thick silence, through which Lydia struggled to keep her expression hardened. Her resolve cracked like a crumbling brick when Robin’s lower lip jutted out in a small pout.

“Stop it!”

“Okay fine, I’ll let up.” Robin put up their hands, a grin replacing their puppy dog eyes. “But if you ever need to use me for this, just let me know.”

“That’s the thing! I don’t want to _use_ you.” Lydia bit her lip, huddling her shoulders over her milkshake in an attempt to hide her face. “I’d prefer you stick around on a want-basis.”

Robin’s smirk grew. “You sayin’ you want me around?”

“You’re doing it again,” Lydia said with a warning inflection. “And I’m more asking if you still want me around. Secrets and all.”

Her gut tugged, but not in the good way it usually does when Robin’s around. Here she was, asking if Robin trusted her despite her track record of secrets, yet she still wasn’t being entirely honest. Between withholding information about their mom and her own attic full of secrets–that pit in Lydia’s stomach only got worse. This was closer to what she felt she nearly exorcised Barbara.

Guilt. _That’s_ what it was.

“I’m still here.” Robin’s statement managed to pull Lydia’s gaze away from her melting shake. “I think that answers your question.”

The pit didn’t vanish, but it was overtaken but a much more powerful sensation. A familiar warmth spreading in her chest. She narrowed her eyes at their suave demeanor. “Damn, you’re good.”

With a light chuckle, they glanced to the side toward the television screens hanging above the bar. “Hey look, laser tag scores are up.” The pair scanned through the names, looking for their laser tag aliases. When Robin found theirs, they clapped their hands and pumped their fist. “Boom, Robin Hood in third place! Top three! Can’t say I didn’t warn ya!”

“You might wanna keep your hood on.” Lydia pointed up at the screen. “Check second place.”

Robin’s cocky smirk dropped, and they squinted their eyes at the T.V. “Wait, you’re Little Bird?!” they exclaimed in disbelief. “How’d you get a higher score than me?!”

“It’s called skill, kid.” Lydia made a show of blowing on her nails.

Robin scoffed. “First of all, I’m older than you. And the only reason you beat me was because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat.” Lydia placed her hand on her chest. “I played to your easily swayed emotions.”

“And that’s ethical?”

Lydia snorted. “Jeez, I didn’t realize you were such a sore loser.”

Robin shook their head with a groan but let the matter drop. They eyed the television screen in pure disdain as if staring at it hard enough would change the result. After a moment, they hitched their chin up at the screen. “Where did Little Bird come from?”

“An old nickname.” Lydia shrugged, though she couldn’t help her a small grin appearing on her face. “My mom called me that when I was a kid, something having to do with her whole pilot gig.”

“I like it.” Robin took up a ridiculous, medieval accent. _“Though she be but little, she is fierce.”_

“Okay, Shakespeare,” Lydia laughed, throwing a crumpled napkin at Robin. They swatted it away without as much as blinking an eye. Before their banter could continue, Lydia had another thought. “Hold on, if we got second and third, who got first?”

“Probably one of the kids from Billy Murdock’s birthday party.” Robin nodded towards a flock of elementary-aged boys all running around the arcade with impressive energy. “They all take karate. I wouldn’t be surprised if they scaled the walls and flipped over boulders.”

They sat there for a few more minutes before the milkshake bartender strolled over with the check. Robin peered at the bill before pulling out their wallet and opening it up. If Lydia didn’t know she could see the dead, she could’ve sworn she saw their soul leave their body.

“Fuck me,” Robin swore under their breath.

“Need a spot?” Lydia offered them a cordial smile.

“You don’t have to–”

“Robin, you covered the games and the laser tag.” Lydia slid a credit card with her dad’s name on it out of her phone wallet. “Lemme take this.”

Robin pressed their lips into a thin line before blowing out a curt sigh through their nose. With no further objection from them, Lydia gave the card to the tender, who walked away momentarily.

Lydia narrowed her eyes at Robin, whose sight lingered on where the check was. “Uh no, did I wound your pride?”

Robin’s face cracked, giving way to a chuckle. “I was trying to be chivalrous.”

The tender came back and handed Lydia’s card back to her. Then, she grabbed Robin’s hand and pulled them to their feet. “You really do read too much Shakespeare.”

Lydia was still floating on the fact that _they_ _read!_

* * *

Following their departure from the arcade, Robin drove Lydia back to her house on the hill. When they opened the door for Lydia, she almost didn’t want to get out. Getting out would mean the end of their first date.  The thought made her gut clench.

Nonetheless, she hopped out of Robin’s pick-up, and they walked all the way up to her porch before stopping, Lydia a couple steps above Robin. The silence that followed may have felt awkward, but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

Robin was the first to speak. “This was fun.” They shrugged and shoved their hands into the pockets of their jeans. “I’d say it was perfect, but I feel like you’d throat punch me or something.”

“I would never.” Lydia made a fist and held it palm up, right by the side of Robin’s head. “Hammer fist to the temple. Much more effective.”

“Just ‘cause you beat me at laser tag, doesn’t mean you could take me in a real fight.”

“Careful, I just might take you up on that offer.”

“Friday. Behind the gym. 3 o’clock.”

“Perfect.” 

There was yet another moment of wordlessness, in which neither wanted to say the one thing that was left to be said. Yet again, it was Robin who took one for the team and said:

“I'll see you later.”

They ducked their shoulder and started walking backward, holding Lydia’s gaze for as long as they could before they inevitably had to look where they were walking. When they made it to their car door, they took one more look back at Lydia and flashed her that lopsided smile that always seemed to light up a room. Lydia gave them a wiggly-fingered wave as they hopped in the car and drove off.

With one last sigh, the adrenaline seemed to leave her body, and she felt like her legs were both collapsing and lifting off the ground. She’d only now remembered that she didn’t get any sleep the night before. Something about being with Robin set her energy meter back on high.

Or maybe it was the coffee. She liked both well enough.

Slowly, she dragged herself into her house, unable to wipe a silly grin off her face. Once inside, she halted in her tracks at the sight before her. Adam, Barbara, and Beetlejuice were all huddled around the window, sharing whispered musings.

”Were you guys watching me?”

Lydia’s question made the Maitlands jump up with a start. 

”No!” the couple insisted.

”Yes.” Beetlejuice was much blunter.

And yet, Lydia couldn’t find it in herself to care. She just knew after an all-nighter and a perfect first date with Robin, she just wanted to sleep.

And yes, it was _fucking perfect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! I hope you all enjoyed the latest addition! I found myself in a bit of a writing rut there I've been chipping at this chapter bit by bit, and the story afterward only continue to take on a shape of its own! I swear, I tried to keep as relevant to the musical as possible, but this kinda grew into its plot...whoops? Anyway, lemme know what you thought in the comments and have a great day! -Jojo, who is two weeks into school and already feels like they're headed to the Netherworld ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading my story! If you enjoyed it, please make my day and leave a comment telling me what you think or maybe what you'd like to see. I hope you all have a great day! - Jojo, who is flipping the script on their fandom writing :)


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